


deconstruction or, carve

by eulyhne_syios



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Descension, F/M, Hotels, Lawyers, M/M, Mild Gore, Past Relationship(s), Performance Art, Post-Divorce, Psychological, Rhythm 0 Reenactment, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2020-12-21 10:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eulyhne_syios/pseuds/eulyhne_syios
Summary: Instructions:There are 72 objects on the table that one can use on me as desired.Performance.I am the object.During this period I take full responsibility.Duration: 6 hoursLee Taeyong, grad school dropout-turned-high stakes performance artist attempts the infamous Rhythm 0 first performed in 1974 by Yugoslavic performance artist Marina Abramović. Somehow, he survives. Among the audience in the hotel lobby is Jung Jaehyun, a corporate lawyer still coming to terms with his recent divorce.When they meet, neither can predict the string of odd games that ensue.





	1. part i: the conception: the rose

There wasn't usually this much commotion down in the lobby floor. 

Jaehyun sat on the bed, leather loafers still on, trying to concentrate on his weathered copy of _The Double_. 

He tried not to read too often. While he could fall asleep faster, he always ended up sleeping poorly. So on most nights, Jae finds himself in a state of mild numbness, Mac balanced on his knees, plugged into some vapid reality cable series or post-hardcore rock. He hadn’t known screaming could be melodic, and at first it didn’t seem that way at all, but he gradually found calm in it, the way a child eventually finds calm when their parents fight on predictable days of the week. 

Maybe it wasn’t calm. It felt closer to adaptation. Adaptation could lead to stability in plants, sure, but people weren’t plants. 

His eyes veer to the edge of the page, going out of focus and Jaehyun wonders if everyone had a Double. Someone who was the idealized version of yourself and ironically looked exactly like you yet entirely different. You could go through your entire life and never meet them. But if you did happen to run into them, your life would never be the same.

The walls have always been thin. He’s lucky there’s not too many people on his floor this year —most of the young couples are drawn to the higher levels where they have a better view of the city lights, so Jaehyun doesn’t have to suffer through the sounds of them fucking and fighting at odd hours in the night. Sure, there was the occasional elderly man who sang too loud in the shower and the creepy lady of indeterminable age who wore too much eyeshadow.

But they mostly kept to themselves. While weirdos always attracted more weirdos, they multiplied much slower than their louder, more mainstream counterparts. He could usually go down the hallways without any awkward run-ins.

It really was too loud in that damn lobby. 

He’s on the sixth floor, he shouldn’t be able to hear anything from here. 

He tries to remember the last time it was this loud.

Eyeing the darkened window, Jae then sees his breath fog up the glass as his father's Honda pulls them into the driveway. Lights like glowing Skittles wink from the bushes by the front porch as he skims a reddened hand over a patch of snowed bough. All at once, the yellow warmth of the kitchen hall swung him in and then he's running up the woolly stairs of his aunt's house.

Right. Some Christmases ago, he’d been nine and cooped up upstairs while his parents had one of those adult parties with loads of booze and games only grownups could play. He can’t remember what they were celebrating. An acquaintance’s new book deal? An engagement? Something along those lines. 

Well, shit. At least his work gave him a relatively quiet environment, with space throughout the day to return to his little old love. Jaehyun always found himself coming back to reading, back to books over the years, no matter what work he had to do, no matter where he was. He used to draw too, but it became harder and harder to find joy in it as he got older because it was one of those things where you had to improve constantly or you’d be deemed useless, or worse, _ amateur. _

Reading was different. You could read the same nondescript novels all your life and no one gave a shit. They thought you had culture because they didn’t bother to sit close enough to you to discern if the tiny title script on the wrinkled spine read _ Metamorphosis _ or _ Mein Kampf. _

If you loved reading, you didn’t need to have any ‘real’ hobbies as they liked to call it. You could sit around at home all day and maybe people would call you a hermit or antisocial every now and then, but you weren’t doing drugs or going crazy so nobody ever harboured any genuine concern.

_ Does reading books make life make more or less sense? _

He remembers someone from university asking him this once and him probably giving a convoluted answer to get them to shut up. _ Well, literature is art and art imitates life, so I suppose it could make life easier to understand, but then there’s the willing suspension of disbelief and author bias which makes the situation more complex… _

It’s hard to be honest sometimes. You spend so much of your life cultivating different faces for people sometimes even you don’t know the truth anymore. So you just end up grabbing a handful of your favourite faces and stash them in your brain catalogue, ready-for-use. Then all you have to do in the morning is figure out if you’ll be Intellectual But Still Relatively Socially-Ept Jaehyun, or Slightly Avante-Garde But Just Enough To Be Hipster And Not Hippie Jaehyun.

He digs his pocket for a receipt and bookmarks his spot. It's one of those days where it took him two hours to get through two pages. He’d make better time going through his current case in highlighter and red pen. But Jaehyun wasn’t one of those lawyers who took law for the fun of it, so he’d honestly rather drown himself in the bathtub than open the folder at 1 am in the morning. 

A boom of laughter jolts his arm as he sets his book on the table. There’s a jarring garishness to it, something subhuman. As if an elephant swallowed a hyena and their larynxes fused together to create what sounded like bones breaking underwater. 

Jaehyun gets a familiar uneasy feeling around the base of his throat not unlike the feeling a psychic got upon feeling the lines of death on a person’s palm. 

Swinging his legs off the bed, he unlocks the door and lets it click shut by itself, heading down the hall. He doesn’t bother taking the elevator, rushing down the stairs, his feet barely touching the ground. 

By the time he enters the lobby, he’s engulfed by the massive wave of language stew churning around him. It’s like walking through the skin of a bubble into a pit of noise, hunger and senselessness. He wants to leave immediately, but finds that he can’t —he’s stepped in too far and masses upon masses of sweating bodies are blocking his way. His vision begins to blur just from breathing in the overpowering haze of heavy liquor, until his eyes halt across a flash of white, red and black.

In the center of the crowd stands a young man, his shirt torn so it hung like a ragged skirt of paper around his waist. Pieces of his jeans have been cut out also, likely with garden shears to eat through that thick material. Someone has carved a pentagram across the left side of his chest, along with a swarm of upside-down crosses resembling a family of termites running down his torso. A woman approaches him now and reaches behind him to grab a marker and proceeds to draw a very accurate depiction of Goya’s _ Saturn Eating His Son _on the only part of his abdomen left blank. 

He’s seen this before, which is why he does nothing at first. He read about it in high school, the infamous _ Rhythm 0, _but Jaehyun didn’t think anyone would be crazy enough to attempt it again. There were a number of rumored deaths associated with this piece, although none were properly documented because art and the law always had a sort of twisted water-and-oil relationship off the books. 

So he finds himself standing before him, the boy who wore a face of such deathly-still neutrality and blankness, you forgot he was breathing if you didn’t watch his chest. As Jaehyun runs his eyes over him, he realizes why no one has yet marred his face —it was beautiful, almost impossibly so, with his aquiline nose, heaven-hewn jawline and dazed, dreamspun dark eyes. 

There’s not a lot of items left on the table and most of them would make too deep a mark. The artist chose the objects beforehand and from the looks of it, this one wanted pain and lots of it. So Jaehyun wouldn’t give it to him. 

He pinches the stem of a bruised rose, along the gaps between the thorns and runs the tips of the flower’s waxy, fragrant petals across the young man’s lips. For a second, Jae thinks he senses a reaction, maybe surprise at his gentleness, so he angles the plant just so the thorns graze his cheek but not enough to draw blood. 

He eyes the clock above them. This piece lasted for 6 hours and Jaehyun doesn’t want to imagine how much longer this adolescent would have to endure this, for the sake of high-art and its side-doored bullshit. He knows he can’t preserve him forever, what he had left up til now before someone grabbed a knife and scissors and scraped off some more of him. 

For a second, Jae wants to just throw him over his back and get him away from all these people. But he knows he can’t —it’s not safe, it’s not safe for either of them, he smells the stench of a mob out for blood, knows the crowd around him normally poised and civilized will cut them down and gut them both like pigs if the rules of the game are violated. 

He wants to ask him how many hours are left but he knows he can’t answer him. That’s against the rules too.

But he can’t leave either. So he stays, lets himself get swallowed up by the crowd again, just watching. 

(~)

He’s in one of the men’s stalls when he hears the slap of bare feet against the tiles and gritted, spit-lipped obscenities. Jaehyun zips his pants and flushes with a dusty heel, swung out the door. Jumps a little when he sees who it is.

They took to his face —obviously they would, he was crazy to think they’d keep it clean slate. But even the mob had mercy on the lambs, a few knife nicks here, some marker streaks there. His beauty was less marred than it was subdued. Jaehyun knew a number of women who’d even prefer him with that more raw, disheveled look. Quite a few men as well, at that.

He had a way of making pain look sexually charged and inviting. It made him wonder if the kid did this for a career. His shoes didn’t look cheap. Neither did his jeans. 

Right now he’s dabbing antiseptic all over his stomach and every time he winces his abdominal muscles contract and reveal his ribs. The white sink beside him is half-full with pink water, the rims spattered with blood. A damp pile of violet-brown soaked cotton balls cover one corner, the other balances a clear plastic container of gauze and band-aids of various sizes. 

Jaehyun walks over and leans alongside the nearest stall to the sinks, watching with a perplexed expression. The younger man looks up and manages to smirk, despite still being in a lot of pain. 

“Did you enjoy the show?”

He shakes his head, sighing.

“You’re an idiot. And you’re so young. That’s a terrible combination, you know that?”

“I’m not that young,” He frowned, putting down the marooned cotton ball. “-for the record —I’m 24, asshole.”

“Did you have any idea what you were doing? Did you read about what happened in the original performance—?”

“_Tch. _Of course I did, what'd you think I—

“-Someone pointed a _loaded_ _gun_ to her head _minutes _before the piece ended. She nearly di—

“Yeah, well, _ I’m _ still alive so I don’t see what—

“-Someone could’ve cut your dick off,” He continued despite the other guy snorting. “-seriously, some crazy man-hater could’ve lobotomized you and all you could do would be stand there like a fucking Renaissance statue.”

“My dick’s still here if you’re so concerned,” He laughs. “-ironically, it’s the only part of my body that’s still feeling pretty fantastic.”

“And you’ve got your pretty face to thank for that.”

“Pardon me?”

“Forget it.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty...” He murmurs. Then he sneaks a glance. “-want a picture?”

“I’m good, thanks. Left my camera back in the hotel room.”

“Come over to my room, then.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

He snorts and Jaehyun feels a little too rudely targeted. 

“With _ what—_? What could you possibly be busy with in a hotel room in the middle of November?”

“I’m trying to figure some things out.” 

He sees the other man’s expression change slightly. Softer. 

“What kind of things?”

Jaehyun looks to the tiles.

“Personal things.” 

“I see,” His voice has taken on a more mature tone, almost. “-speaking of personal things, could you help me with one of mine?”

“One of yours?” 

“Yeah. Uh-huh,” He turns over, revealing a smattering of nicks on his back. “-I can’t reach those, so disinfect and bandage them for me?”

“Sure. Okay.”

“Thanks.”

Jaehyun moves over and picks out a clean, fuzzy white ball, dips it in fluid and starts blotting at the whisker-shaped tears along the backs of his shoulders. Every so often the adolescent winces, muscles tensing, making the cuts stretch open. They looked like gills scattered randomly across his body. He runs a thumb over one, vaguely thinking, eyes glazing over. 

“_Tch_. Why’re you _ touching _ it?” The guy scoffs —shaking him out of the trance.

“Sorry. I was...a little, um, out of it for a second.”

“Don’t like the sight of blood?” He feels the grin in his voice again.

“That wasn’t the reason.”

“Yeah. I know it wasn’t.”

“You know, you basically brought this entire thing upon yourself…” Jaehyun mutters, starting to apply the gauze. “-you chose those tools to let them hurt you.”

Shrugs. “-I wanted to see how far they’d go.”

“You’re lucky you saw and that you’re still seeing.”

“I guess. _ Tch —ah-h_.” He grimaces, unconsciously leaning closer towards him. Jaehyun can feel the outline of his backside press against his pants. The tips of his hair at the nape are wet and smell like the dry cleaners. He has a sudden urge to kiss that part of his skin. 

But then the feeling wanes. He brushes it off as normal. Jae's spent so much time away from people that whenever he got into close proximity with almost anyone he’d have these moments, these random wishes for contact. The inevitable human craving for intimacy, he called it. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Hey. You still there?”

“Still here,” Jae gestures with his chin, wonders if he can catch it with a sideways glance. “-still working.”

“Okay,” He chuckles. “-you just went sorta quiet for a second.”

“I am, a lot, actually. Most of the time.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ve said more in the past ten minutes than I have in the past two months.”

Silence. Then the other chuckles. “-that bad, huh?”

“Yeah. That bad.”

“Some kind of trauma?”

“Mm,” He smiles a smile that’s not really a smile. “-some kind of trauma.”

Jaehyun finishes the last of the bandages and smooths over the material with his fingertips. The other guy doesn’t wince this time. 

“There. Perfect.” 

“Me?” He echoes his softness. “-or you?”

“Neither. It just is.”

“Okay,” He looks down at the sink. It had drained, now only a faint foamy stain marks the old water line. “-sure you don’t wanna come over?” 

“Yeah. I’ll pass.”

“I’ve got alcohol.”

“I hate alcohol.”

“I’ve got drugs.”

“No thanks.”

“We can do something else.”

“It’s okay.”

“How long’s it been since you’ve last...?”

“Too long.”

Leans his head back, hair pressed against Jaehyun’s face. “-so, come over...”

“No.”

“Don’t you like me?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Are you married?”

“Not anymore.”

“So what’s the matter?”

He turns around to face Jaehyun and takes a nice, long look at his face. Almost expects him to bare his teeth. The older man hopes he can’t tell he’s shaking, though almost imperceptibly.

Then he brings his mouth over Jaehyun’s right ear.

“I’m in 1609 if you’re still…” Teeth grazing his lobe. “-interested.”

“You must be insane.” 

“I know,” He grins, exposing a brass molar. 

Then he slips past him out the door, still grinning as if he’s won already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> found this lying around from a year ago, somewhat kafka's "hunger artist" meets lathimos’s “killing of a sacred deer”
> 
> jae's in his early-mid thirties, tae's unchanged (mid-twenties)
> 
> dgd's "carve" sums up their relationship well enough... (also "turn off the lights, i'm watching back to future part ii", but that's later)


	2. the scar

He’s almost found it. Palm against the cold, puckered wall, Jaehyun feels for the spot. Just a bit...a bit more to the left. Somewhere...it has to be…

There. 

His fingers curl around the crater, feeling the powdery plaster dust his knuckles. The edges have worn to gentle valleys. You couldn’t cut yourself here if you tried. 

It was their porthole. Well, at least it used to be. 

Jaehyun thinks back to all the times he fought with her in here. When he got so upset, they had to sleep in separate rooms. When he banged on the door at 1 am telling her he was sorry. When his fist stung too much and he stopped, pressing his face into his hands. When he lifted his cheek and it came away bloody. 

When he started beating the door again. When he couldn’t distinguish between his banging and his cries.

When all he got was silence.

He would pass out in the hall after. Back against the door, legs splayed across the carpet. He’d watch the hallway lights flicker until the white crowded out his eyes. The elevators would whir, still, as his world turned red-dark beneath his lids. 

Someone always stole something while he was out. A shoe. His watch. His reading glasses. Jaehyun always wondered how they’d been able to find it. He kept it in a thin case against his hip —after finding a strange side pocket in the athletic boxers his ex-wife got him last year. _ You know the fitness industry, honey. They’re putting pockets everywhere these days. _

They would’ve had to reach a hand down his pajamas to get the glasses. Did no one have shame anymore? 

Anyhow, Jaehyun would straighten himself back up and stumble back to his room while she slept in the other. When he sank onto the bed, he’d roll over and reach his hand through the gap. After he found her fingers, he’d just rest his hand over them. He wouldn’t wake her. He’d hold on, just barely. 

He knew she was asleep. But when she returned his grip, somewhere along the night, he’d decide he was forgiven, at least a little. He’d decide it was enough. And then he could finally fall asleep. 

Slipping his hand through the crevice, Jaehyun feels the mattress on the other side. It’s cold. Dry. Smooth. He wonders when the sheets were changed. He wonders how many times the sheets were changed since they were over. 

His fingers close over the fabric and he sighs. Okay. Just until… Just until the spot under his palm warmed. Then he’d go to sleep. 

He feels his pinky going numb when a different set of fingers closed over his. Jaehyun froze. No, it wouldn’t work to struggle. Just go limp. Just let go. They could have a cleaver in the other hand for all he knew. 

If they took his hand from the wrist, how much of it would he feel? 

Would it hurt less if he imagined it first?

Jaehyun almost laughs. Well, this sure was...

“Wait. Is it...is it you?” 

He laughs softly. Perhaps he should count himself lucky. 

“Yeah. When did you start following me?”

“After you left the restroom,” Brass Molar said. “-you had about nine drinks before reaching the elevator. Could barely get your door open.”

“Ha.”

“I thought about carrying you,” He traces the veins along Jaehyun’s hand. 

“What? With your skinny ass?”

“You’d be surprised. Most people don’t know my strength.”

“I’m sure.”

He feels the lines of his palm against his thumb before the guy lets go.

Brass Molar falls silent for a while. Jaehyun hears the bed creak, and then rustling and jangling and grunting. 

“Are...you alright?”

Boyish laughter follows. 

“Yeah. Just got out of my pants. I sleep bare, it feels better. I get warmer faster.”

“Aren’t you afraid of...things getting inside?”

“If they have, they’ve been getting in for years. I’m still alive. What’s the worry?”

“...”

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah?” He’s grinning again. 

“You’re gonna wake up in a hospital one day with a tapeworm two thirds up your ass. And they’re gonna find a dozen bedbugs in your appendix. With larvae.”

“Aren’t there like enzymes for…?”

“That’s only for women, I’m pretty sure. Men just die.”

“No...actually, I think men also have…”

“Look, it makes _ sense _ from a biological standpoint —women give birth, right?” Jaehyun pinches his nose bridge, barely believing he’s having this conversation. “-so naturally, there’ll be a couple lines of defense in case things...get...in…” 

“But guys don’t give birth through the ass, so there’s no protection.”

He sighs.

“It’s your fault for being stupid.” _ If you die, that’s on you. _

“Would you visit me?” He curls his fingers over Jaehyun’s again. “-if I ended up in the hospital” Smooths a fingertip along his thumb. “-because of tapeworms and bedbugs and no enzymes?”

“Would you want me to? Don’t you think I’d just say I told you so?”

“Would you?”

“Probably.”

“Shame, I took you for someone kinder. I’m disappointed.”

“I don’t suffer fools.”

“Of course not,” Brass Molar chuckles. “-but maybe you decide things too hastily, Jaehyun.”

“I…” He swallows uncomfortably. Pulls his hand away. “-I’m not even going to ask.”

“Good. I don’t suffer fools either.”

A pocket of ache builds in his throat. He swallows again.

“For the record, you’re kind of a creep…”

More laughter.

“That’s juicy coming from you. Reaching through holes to feel up a stranger’s bed. That’s not weird at all.”

“She used to stay there. Before you,” Jaehyun turns away from him. Presses his cheek against his stale pillow. Sighs. “-my...my wife used to, um, sleep there after we...after I…” 

“Yeah? Where she now?” 

“I don’t know. I mean, I _ know_, but,” He presses a palm over his eyes. “-whatever she’s doing or where she is, right now, I don’t have the slightest…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“It’s so fucking stupid. You live with someone for years and you feel like you know enough to know everything and then they go and you don’t know anything.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean ‘yeah’? Is that all you know how to say?”

“No, I mean, what do _ you _ think? Do you think you know nothing?”

“I feel like I know nothing and that I spent all that time for nothing.”

“But maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you know something.”

“It doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter anymore.”

He feels him go silent again, then more rustling and fumbling. 

Something small, pointy and hard enters his palm. Even when Jae shifts it around in the bent shafts of moonlight along the bed, it’s hard to see. Too many sparkles.

“Steel Mandelbrot fractal. Looks like a spiky popcorn, yeah? You can create an infinite number of patterns from them.”

“Why are you giving me this?”

“It keeps scratching up my pockets,” He laughs. “-and it’s pretty useless. But it’s beautiful.”

“And you want me to have it.”

“You should. It’s nice.”

“Yeah?” 

“It’s like me. It’s like a lot of us.”

(~)

“See? Almost all gone, hm?” Turns over, showing Jaehyun his back again. He’s let his towel down, just lounging in his boxers. Plants his chin along a palm, turning back to him, flaring his brow. 

Jae found out his name in the morning, along the bed, in a badly folded memo slip. _ 615-398-2774 taeyong xxx. _He’d tossed it in the trash just to pick it out and flick it back through the gap again.

Right. Let him know there’s no chance.

He kept the Mandelbrot, though. It _ was _ nice. He slipped it into a box where he kept his spare inkblot cards.

They’re in the lobby again, two days later, with Taeyong taking up eighty percent of the couch, bouncing his leg against the other armrest. 

With the few passersby they do get, he just grins at them long enough until they get uncomfortable and leave. 

It’s unnerving. At anyone else, the guy looks ready to bite off heads. But for Jaehyun, there’s a tempered warmth in his eyes.

“Mm. Still a little something,” He murmurs, a finger hovering over the side of his face. “-right there…?”

“Oh, this?” Taeyong touches the fleck of shine along his left cheek. “-nah, that’s always been there. I had a thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh. Used to pick it all the time when I was little...there’s a...some fancy word, it’s not coming to me now.”

“Doesn’t hurt at all, doesn’t it? It’s weird, huh,” Jaehyun shifts his gaze to the blooming dampness around the guy’s hair. “-had a thing when I was younger, too.”

“Really?”

“Bit my fingers all the time. Couldn’t stop it. Did it when I was nervous, did it when I was blanked out,” Shook his head, showed him the side of his second finger. “-it’s smooth now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Took out a whole chunk of it in my Dad’s car when I was eight. Right along the cuticle, size of a fucking ice cream sprinkle. Scared the shit outta my brother.”

Taeyong chuckles, skimming a thumb over the spot, bringing Jae’s hand closer to his face. 

“You know what scared the shit outta me? There was no blood. Took out a piece of my finger and all I had was a clean hole for two months.”

“And that shit just grew back?”

Jaehyun coughs a laugh, barely believing it himself. “-Mother Nature’s just so fucking weird sometimes, right?”

Grins. 

“Sure you’re not just Batman?”

“Doesn’t he bleed, still?” 

“Nah, just said that so Clark would quit bitching,” Glances down, a tick creasing his jaw. “-oh, right. There’s this, too.” Takes Jaehyun’s hand, slid it over the base of his stomach, just shy of his waistband.

“Hey…”

“No. Here. Feel it?”

Jaehyun pauses.

“Not from yesterday?”

“No. Some guy did try to be clever last night, though,” Tae picked off a piece of dandruff from the cushion. “-drew a little worm on the end. Pretty cool actually —I could make it move by flexing my abs.”

“It does kinda look like a fish hook, now that I look at it…” 

“Scars are funny,” He smiles. “-see, my sister’s got some too. We were five and eleven. Playing hide and seek by the river. Covers herself with some of the trash along the shore —plastic bags, fast food cartons, newspaper shreds.”

“Yeah?”

“And the finishing touch?” Curls both his hands into circles over his face like glasses. “-she finds these two jagged Coke bottle caps and places them over her eyes.”

“And so you...”

“Me?” He laughs. “-I trip over a fucking log and my hand scrapes across her face. But she’s lucky —twists her head at just the right time.”

Jaehyun says nothing, eyeing the veins along his hands. 

“Coulda went blind,” The other murmurs. “-but nah, ‘stead there’s just…” Stares past him. “-a thread of solar flare…” Traces his thumb nail around Jae’s eyelid. “-right over there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this'll run shorter than planned
> 
> sorry, ran into serious writer's block, but i figured it out somewhat, so we're back again
> 
> this is a strange one, haha


	3. the key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes it's the little things, u feel

“Shh, over here.” 

Jaehyun ducks to miss hitting his head on a rusty colander. Along the same ledge hung a mismatch of ladles, sifters and tongs, right under the main ceiling vents. The vents ran down the center, overlooking a row of stoves and the sink. He hadn’t seen him in a few days. Then yesterday he heard a crash in the pantry kitchen as he headed to the lobby restroom at 3 am. 

He’d stayed with Taeyong since then, sitting on the floor, sharing a bag of Doritos and gently expired Mini Wheats. They drank from the tap until Jaehyun found a carton of grape concentrate in the back of the storage closet. They took wine glasses from the dishwasher —realizing they needed to dilute it when the sweetness made Jaehyun’s eyes water. 

Taeyong pulls him to the left wing, next to the slide-out freezer. After a couple gritted yanks, he manages to get the thing open and reaches both hands in. A cloud of frost scatters over their faces. The other wrinkles his nose at the gluey smell of frozen meat. 

“Voilà,” The younger guy grins, setting the dented cake box on the floor. Tips up the flap, revealing a gleaming, half-eaten key lime pie. “-hel-_lo_, gorgeous.”

“Cute,” Jaehyun snorts, scraping a finger over a meringue flower. Frowns when he comes away empty —it’s frozen to a chalky tuft. “-think you’re cooler than me, huh.”

“Let’s take it outside, yeah?” Taeyong laughs, getting up. He shoves the freezer closed with his heel, heading towards the fire escape. “-get some forks from the upper cabinet.” 

(~)

“They only get this once a year.” 

Taeyong lies at the bottom of the double slide, feet propped up at the slushy top. It was almost evening. The pie sits on the other landing while Jaehyun leans on the slide’s edge. He’s tried to get the guy to sit up to eat, but he’s lazy. He just turns his head to chew on a forkful of lime cream, waiting for Jae to prop his head up to swallow. 

He swats off the snow that’s fallen along the guy’s jacket collar. What a baby. 

“Yeah? What’s the occasion?”

“Dunno,” Taeyong shrugs, plucking off a semi-melted meringue. He tries to get it into Jae’s mouth —and misses, smushing it over his nose, snorting. “-not me, that’s for sure.”

“So shouldn’t you ask before you...?” Slaps his hand away when guy tries to get the stuff in his mouth again. “-you’re just feeding me boogers now, you goof.”

The other flicks his cheek and tries to somersault backwards off the slide, landing in the snow in more laughter. Gets up, smacking his jeans and heads to the swings. 

“Things always taste better stolen.” He calls back, winking. “-you know?”

Jaehyun sighs and covers the pie again before joining him. 

(~)

“You know, it’s the first time I had that pie in the daytime.” 

“Really?” He watches the Taeyong swing higher and higher. Soon the guy’s ankles overtake the tallest slide in the park. “-are you...superstitious?”

“No,” He laughs. “-it’s not like that.”

“No? What, then?”

“It’s like…” He muses, wiping flurries off his eyelid. “-when a good thing reminds you of a bad thing.”

“And the pie is one of those things.”

“Yeah. One or the other. Maybe both.”

“Right.”

“You know, it’s like…” Taeyong tries again. Turns to him at the downswing. “-can I ask you something, actually?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think,” He stares at a window on the hotel’s fourth floor. Behind partly drawn curtains, a woman was changing. “-some people enjoy denying the joy of other people?”

“Sure. Depends on what they can get out of it, I suppose.”

“I’m not talking about those kinds of people.”

“I know.”

Jaehyun follows his gaze, watching the silhouette unhook her bra. He looks away.

“I’m talking about ordinary people.”

“So am I.” 

“You think ordinary people like hurting people?”

Jaehyun frowns at the pattern of his pajamas. “-I think you don’t have to be special to hurt someone. Can’t anybody do it?”

“Yeah. Other people can really,” Taeyong bends his knees, no longer swinging his legs. “-screw you up real bad.”

“How’d you find out?”

“You know some people, they think they really know you, right?”

“Okay.”

“They think they know you so good, so when you tell them what you want, it’s not really about what you want but what they think you want.”

“Sure.”

“I wanted that stupid pie for my fifteenth birthday. Thirteen-ninety-nine, not much. So I told Mom to get it,” He shook his head. “-it’s really not that deep —it’s my favourite pie. It makes me happy.”

“Uh huh.”

“I just wanted to be happy. For a day. One day.”

Jaehyun says nothing. The woman in the window had disappeared. He thought he could hear the shower running. 

“The pie was already in the cart. They were waiting in the express aisle. Dad goes back to grab a bag of wasabi peas. Sees some new cake in the frozen section. Swaps the pie with that cake at the last, possible minute.”

“And that’s what you got.”

“That’s what I got. They come home and set the bag on the table and I push the plastic off. Some ugly ass ice cream cake’s staring back at me like; _ surprise, bitch you thought _—

He glares at Jaehyun who’s laughing. He covers his mouth, but his cheeks still flush with humour. “-I’m sorry, but that’s just…”

“-And a couple weeks later, Dad comes home and he’s like ‘Hey, I got you some pie’ and I look in the bag.”

“And it’s not...”

“No, it’s not —it’s some pecan-walnut looking shit…” He huffs at the sky. “-look, I don’t know if you get it or not, but the old man loves playing with my fucking brain. He knows what I want and he gets it wrong on purpose just to see what I’ll do.”

“And if you complain you look like the bad guy.”

“Welcome to my life,” He sighs. “-he’s just that kind of person. He’s so clever, you know? Too clever for me, clearly.”

Jaehyun looks at him patiently.

“Had a real blast on your birthday, huh?”

“More than twenty years and he’s learned jackshit about me.”

“You think you know everything about him, though?”

“I know enough. He came home with his favourite sponge cake. Both days. Somehow, if it’s something he wants, he never gets it wrong.”

“Still, is it worth it to get this pissed over some pie? Can’t you go to the store to get it yourself?”

“Seriously, man, just tell me,” Taeyong shakes his head. The swing barely swung now.“-what is he gonna lose if he gives me what I want?”

“I don’t know. You should ask him.”

“I have. We just end up fighting and he tells me I’m selfish.”

(~)

“So I presume you developed a pie addiction somewhere down the lime?”

They're sitting in the stairwell, blocking the second half-flight to eleventh. Taeyong began complaining about the cold and then they found this spot right under a giant vent. Jaehyun just returned from the pantry again with some foam cups. They drank their pie now. 

“Close enough,” Taeyong mumbles, cheeks full of lukewarm cream. “-went to the supermarket the following month and bought it. Finished the whole thing by myself that afternoon."

"Yeah?"

"Bought another one in the evening.”

"Shit," Jaehyun chuckles, getting goop on his upper lip. Swears when he spills some on his pants. “-with your own money?” 

“Sure. Worked part-time at the local auto repair. I had enough.”

“Were you happy?”

“Of course not,” He set the cup on the floor. “-damn pie gave me diarrhea for three days straight.”

Jaehyun stares at him, blinking.

“I’m kidding. Half-kidding.”

“Okay.”

The remaining pie had started to leak from the box. Taeyong almost smiles as he blots the ground with a crumpled napkin.


	4. the screw

Sometime later, Jaehyun bites something jagged, almost chokes. He coughs hard into his hand, a salt-rusty taste on his tongue. 

Blood spatters his palm, a small dark object rolling in the center. 

_ Son of a... _

A screw. 

He winces, reaching a finger into his molars. Sighs. Still all there. Still all intact. 

Taeyong had gone off to the bathroom. He’d left his cup here, empty, leaning against the crushed cake box. Jae scratches at the residue with his toe, leaning his head against the wall. 

He should stay away from this guy. 

Dumps out what’s remaining in his own cup, expecting at least one razor blade. Rips the foam in half, shoveling the stuff around. Nothing. Maybe he’s paranoid. Maybe he got lucky. 

_ But still. He knew my name —where’d he hear it from? _

Jaehyun flips the box open again, digging through the mush with his foam shard. More goop oozes through the corners. He squats up to avoid it, still combing. 

Something red peeks from the bottom and he flinches, dropping the foam. He picks the thing out. Sighs. Just a price sticker. Must’ve fallen in during packaging. Just carelessness, that’s all.

_ Carelessness could’ve.... _

Jaehyun shuts the box, pressing his hands over his eyes. This was wrong. This was all wrong. He shouldn’t be hanging out with a kid ten years younger than himself, let alone expect something out of it. 

What did he expect from it? That they’d end up fucking and he’d forget about the past two months for a few hours? _ God… What’s gotten into me? _This wasn’t how people went around fixing their problems. This wasn’t how decent people went around doing it. 

_Should_ _we have...the first night? Should I have let him…? _

Something felt off. Jaehyun thinks about last night again. He thinks back to the bathroom, pressing the gauze over his back. 

The damp hair along his nape smelling like dry cleaners. 

Something felt odd. Familiar.

He could feel it, it was just...

(~)

“Lovely,” She folds the paper closed, leaning back her head to look up at him. “-not what I was expecting for Valentine’s, but I guess it’s an acquired taste.”

Jaehyun sat down opposite of her. He watches the wrinkled sheet turning in her hands, a lump building in his throat. It’s hard to even breathe. 

“It’s not a joke.”

“No?”

“Not the first one I’ve gotten either,” He reaches down to retrieve more folded papers from his satchel, spreading them out onto the table. “-oldest one's from three years ago.”

“...And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I...I didn’t think it would get…” 

He laced his fingers together, picking at his left thumb’s nail with his right. 

“To be honest, at first I thought the whole thing was a joke too...” Slides the yellowest page towards her. At some parts, the ink bled through, broken blue and brown loops. “-the first one felt too amateurish, even to me.”

“Even to you?”

“I’m not much of a writer, myself. Can barely manage a grocery list, you know.”

“You’re telling me,” She chuckles, flipping the page over. Studies it, running her index finger along the margin. “-okay.”

She sets the paper down, looking towards the window. Briefly, she concentrates on the vehicles scouring the roads outside. Then she slid it back to him.

“Okay.” 

“Okay?”

“You heard me.” 

“You’re okay with all this?”

“What do you think?”

Jaehyun opens his mouth, then closes it again. The space between his eyes burns and when he exhales his shoulders shake. She clears her throat quietly. 

“Does it make you feel heroic?” She squints. “-are you waiting for me to applaud you? For showing me this dogshit?”

He picks at the rust on his watch clasp, flattening his mouth. She pinches the side of her neck and sighs.

“I think that you think the truth somehow makes people happy. That it would somehow make me happy.”

Jaehyun swallows, eyeing the spaces between the crooked cursive along the page. The lump in his throat now feels like a vise.

“W-would you have wanted me to—

“-Shooting me in the face would’ve felt better,” She continued. “-and the fact that you _ kept _all of these too...Fuck, that says a whole lot more about you than it does about her.”

“What are you talking about?” He tries to grasp her hands but she twists free. “-says what about me —what're you saying?”

“That you value this juvenile trash more than your own wife?”

“That wasn’t my _ intentio— _

“Then _ what _was it?!” 

She shatters a mug against the table and a shard nicks him on the lip. 

“I wanted you to trust me. I wanted you to know I’d never hide anything from you—

“-You hid this from me for _three years_ —how can you _ still _go around thinking you’re some kind of saint? Un_believ_able.”

“Honey—

“-You should’ve just fucked her instead. You could’ve picked a nice, discrete hotel and had a great night and told me you were at some friend’s house. I would’ve believed you.”

Jae tries to grab her arm but she wrenches it off, dragging on her jacket and jamming her feet into her shoes. He holds out an arm to steady her; she smacks it away, gripping the door frame. 

“Honey, baby, sweetheart, please—” He winces, the drying blood splitting his lip again. “-I was wrong, I was wrong —I screwed up, I never should’ve kept th—

"-Dragging this on for three years, treating me and her and this whole mess like a fucking joke..."

She snatches her keys by the counter, turning to him one last time.

“Forget it. Why don’t you enjoy yourself tonight? Go on. Invite her over —I’ll be at my father’s place, I won’t even know.”

(~)

“You okay?” 

Jaehyun shakes, squirming at the dampness along his bottom. Shit. Some of the mush had gotten on after all. He rises, shaking the sleep off his legs. Shoves his hands into his pocket, looking towards the exit. 

Taeyong brushes a thumb over his lip and the other flinches. 

“You’re bleeding. They have first-aid at the front desk. Let’s go to th—

“-I’ll go by myself. Y-you should get some rest,” He gestures to the stain along the stomach of Taeyong’s shirt. “-the cuts are starting to open up —you’re moving too much.”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing, come on, I’ll—

“-No, stop it, just stop, okay? Just _ stop. _ Please.”

Jaehyun steps back and almost trips down the stairs. He grabs the railing and glares at him. 

“This was never a good idea. You need to find someone your own age. I need to be alone. We need to stop seeing each other.”

Taeyong squints at him, covering the stain with a hand. 

“_Wh— _ We literally _ just _ met last night, week, whatever. We’ve done nothing. You can’t even call it _ seeing._”

“Well, then, I’ve seen enough, alright? I want to end it here —I don’t want it to get any more complicated than it already is.”

“Complicated? We’ve barely become friends and you want to get away from me?” He scoffs, arms crossed. “-have I _ done _ something to you?” 

“I think you need to rest and get your head together. I’m not going to sleep with you or take part in any of your weird voodoo art shit. Go back to your own room, go do whatever you want —just leave me the hell alone.”

With that, he swung through the exit and stormed down the hall. Taeyong heard the boom of the elevator sliding open, then rattling closed. Then all he hears is the rumble of the generator, the beep of the garbage truck unloading. 

He sinks, breathing in the smell of stale pie. Peers over at Jaehyun’s torn cup. 

A bloodied screw stuck to the edge of the foam rim. 

Shit. _How_ _the_ _fuck did…? _ He picks up the dark little thing, getting flecks of blood in his nails. Uses the tip to scrape out some zest caught in his teeth. 

How could he let something this stupid happen? 

And how to explain...? _Whoops, sorry for almost killing you, dunno how a screw got in, must be the psycho delivery guy again, haha. _Bullshit. Even a third-grader could do better than that. Shit, maybe he should actually phone his eight-year old cousin for suggestions.

_Somehow, no, I can't think like that, there's still some way out of this, I just have to_...__

Taeyong grits, slipping the screw into his back pocket, descending for the lobby bar. 

He shouldn’t worry. They always came back. 

Sometimes they even came back crawling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and so the chase begins ahaha


	5. the urinal

By the time Taeyong reaches the bar, someone’s already taken his usual spot by the jade tiger. 

It’s fast. He leans in, breathing hot against the older woman’s neck and she turns, aghast. Pulling up her mink boa, she scowls before recognizing him. Goya flashes in her mind and she flushes, stumbling away.

“The usual, thanks.”

A swish of amber, tinkling cubes and the glass slides into his hands. Taeyong dunks it down and sighs, throwing his head back. Glittering ceiling lights send fireworks behind his lids and he’s right again. 

Well. For now.

“So who is it this time, hm?” 

Taeyong eyes the bartender, grinning, smudging his liner from the reflection on the counter. 

“Let’s see if he’s here, shall we...?” Surveys the glowing hall, brazen with the nightly crawlers —the dudes, the divas, the dragons and the disenfranchised done up like one of the former. “-seems like he’s yet to arrive. No worries. He’s probably in the, I dunno. Bathroom or something.”

“You seem so sure.”

He shrugs.

“I met him there. Last night.”

So _last_ night was sort of a lie. Whatever. He didn’t bother counting now.

“Hm,” The barman turns to wipe down the mixing station. Checks over his shoulder. “-no judgment, but you sure the ones you meet in restrooms are…reliable?”

“Reliable, I don’t know. Harmless, though, for sure.”

“Really?”

“Had a chance with me. Didn’t take it. Strangely.”

“But perhaps he isn’t…?”

“Oh, no, he’s into me. For sure. Sooner or later, they all are, you know?”

Barman pulls the glass back for a refill, chuckling. 

“Confident, huh. I like that.”

“You can’t really do the things I do without confidence,” Taeyong grins, crushing an ice cube in his teeth. He savors the crunch, the ache, the reverb after. “-usually in life, you’re either the puppet or the puppeteer.”

“But you?”

“I’m like both. And neither.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“You know, the thing about people is…” He gulps down another glass. “-they’re not too different...from clothes.”

The barman laughs.

“You can wear them, and you can wear many at once...and when you’re bored you can snip a bunch apart and sew it up into something new.”

“Have you done that before?”

“Oh, yes, many times. Not literally, obviously,” Taeyong laughs. “-that’s illegal.”

“But you wear people.”

“I wear people, yeah. It’s a lifestyle —you should try it.”

He went back to his room that night, head still intact for the most part. Face planted into his sheets, Taeyong sighed, wondering what had gone wrong. His legs sagged, knees sunken into the carpet. He woke up the next morning, curled up down there, a third of the covers fallen down over his waist.

He doesn’t see Jaehyun for two weeks. 

He returns to the counter again this evening. The barman appears amused, almost smug. He pours his drinks with enough flourish it’s nauseating. Taeyong does his best to ignore him. _Fuck that guy. Fuck all these guys. _

After a while, Taeyong figures he should lay off the liquor —the ceiling lights have become pulsing Ferris wheels, chattering to him in some oily Klingon-Elvish hybrid —and make a break for the nearest restroom. He’d kick himself if he were more sober —but anything white in his field of vision looked like a viable urinal.

His mouth rattles notions of a tab —intelligible enough that the bartender lets him go. The hall is mostly deserted. Just as well —nobody has to see his embarrassing Bambi-swagger til the stark corridor. 

_ Thank God for walls_, Taeyong thinks, practically both hands gripping the raised border. His thumbs graze over the engraved florals, the swirling pattern making him nauseous.

An ache builds in his chest and Taeyong shudders, reiterating some (most) of the whiskey he’d downed earlier. The fluid just spills from his mouth like baby’s drool. 

_ Holy zamboni macaroni, fuck’s the bathroom at...?! Gravity needs to like ...chill for a sec so I can go up the wall an'...pee in that big shiny ceiling light bowl thingie —hold it, hold it, hold it, fuckers gotta put 'em toilets somewhere…gotta have 'em on every floor —that's floor equality...human floor rights, com'on..._

He reaches a mint-green door with a placard under the square window. He attempts to read it, but the letters insist on playing Ring-Around-A-Rosie: 

_ La…? Ladro… Lindr...Lava… _

_ ...Lavalamp? What? What kinda room is Lavala…?! _

No, that can’t be right. _ Okay, Landr… Lunder...Lound… _

_ ...Landrover. Okay. Either that or it says Lottery. Or Labrador. Damn it, none ‘o this’s makin’ any sense… _

He presses his face against the glass and sees a bunch of white shapes lined against the walls and the sloshing of water. A washroom, fair and square.

_ Alright, Lavarovery, I’m coming in! _

Taeyong yanks the door open and staggers to the nearest white shape. Something’s wrong though. Urinals have holes near the bottom. Now where was the… 

He bends over and sees a clearish window, notices a handle part. Pulls that open —a gust of hot, sweet air hitting him in the face. _ Since when did urinals smell this great…? Must be my lucky day. _

Unzips his pants and sighs, calmly relieving himself when a man shouts in horror behind him. 

_ Wait, hold on..._

“J...Jaehy…?”

“What in God’s name are you _ doing…_?!”

Gestures to the white thing in front of him. “-hadta uh, um, pee...am peeing right n...wh…?”

“You’re peeing into a_ washing machine… _” 

_ A what…? _

Taeyong shrugged, flipping the clear door closed and pressed a button that looked like “flush”. He peered down. 

Well, it was kind of flushing —the piss was spinning in a circle like it did in toilets —although it didn’t appear to be going anywhere. Oh, whatever. Close enough.

“A washing machine_. _ For _ laundry_.”

_Laundry...?_

Huh.

Wait.

_ Laun_…? _ Laundr…? Laundry… _

_ Oh...wait. _

Oh. 

Laundry.

(Shit.)

(~)

Moments later, Taeyong’s legs fail him and he lurches, collapsing straight into Jaehyun’s arms. Could've been awfully romantic —except his body decided to empty its guts all over the guy at the same time. 

Jaehyun gets drenched in orange-brown vomit from the neck down. Whiskey, stomach acid and oyster globs dribble off, forming a stewy puddle on the floor. Taeyong gasps and spits the remaining gunk onto his chest. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, rubs it off on the guy’s collar. Hiccups once, then twice.

Jaehyun’s too stunned to react for the first twelve seconds. 

Then he exhales and stares down at his shirt. Speechless. Taeyong sneezes. Jaehyun forgot to close his mouth. He ingested some of that sneeze. 

He sucks in a breath, his mouth one hard line.

Plunking Taeyong along a nearby folding chair, Jaehyun peels off his shirt, tossing it into the machine next to the other guy’s mistaken urinal. He measures the correct amount of washing soda, dumps it in and presses start. 

Wipes the vomit bits along his chin. Opens the lid of the washer, running his hand under the rush. Leans in, splashes some water along his chest, then his torso. Stares at the wet clump that was his shirt at the bottom, sighs, dunking his face against the gush too. Sighs, dissociating. Shuts the lid. Shouts. Yanks his head out, muttering to himself.

Then Jaehyun just squats and watches his ruined shirt tumble for a while. Taeyong watches him watch it for a while. Eventually, he notices the guy’s wearing neither shirt nor pants. 

_ Holy._

“S-sorry…” He manages, drooling a little. 

Jaehyun sighs.

“At least we’re already in the laundry room...”

(~)

“S-so uh, where’s yer…” Taeyong gestures to Jaehyun’s legs with his chin. 

“Yeah, actually that’s why I’m here,” The other guy nods. He rests on a footstool, chewing his pinky nail. “-your soggy pie crap got on my pants so...” _And so maybe I let it sit festering on the carpet for two weeks. No matter. He doesn’t have to know. _

“Oh…”

“Yeah.”

“Jeez...”

“Uh huh.”

Jaehyun looks up at him finally, chuckling —the guy still slumped in that chair, cheek pressed against the rumbling washer, picking at the dried bits around his mouth. Looking two showers away from presentable, in an unlaced kurta and chunky Fendi slippers. 

He yawns and grabs a hand towel lying on the dryer behind him, soaking it in the running washer. Wrings it, shutting the lid, kneeling before the younger man.

Dabs the towel over his chin, then his throat, then at the stray food bits dotting his scab-ridden abdomen. Sighs, smiling faintly.

“Cleaning up after you again, huh?” Jaehyun murmurs, mostly to himself. “-why’re you always getting into trouble…”

Taeyong sticks out his tongue in response, shrugging. Flicks some bits onto his face.

The other scoffs.

“An attitude, still? Fine,” Chucks the rag at his chest, getting up. “-do the rest yourself.”

“Oh, com’on…” He slurs. “-why so sensiddive…”

The other man turns around, tugging his pants from the dryer. Snorts.

“Learn some manners.”

(~)

“Can you,” He swerves the chair around, hauling Taeyong up by the pits, frowning when the guy’s feet sweep aimlessly along the floor. “-yeah, no, you’re definitely not walking…”

“Carry me…” 

“No can do,” Jaehyun replies, plopping him back down. He slips on his shirt, still toasty from the dryer, sighing. “-you reek. Go shower or something.”

Taeyong blinks at him. “-_bitch_...?”

Ignoring him, Jaehyun makes a tour of the room and grins when he finds the answer. He wheels it over, pointing with his chin. “-alrighty. Climb aboard.”

He glances down, then back at him, cheek still pressed to the washer. 

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Alternatively, I can get you that broom over there. Leave you here to fend for yourself. Up to you.”

_ All because I threw up on you…? _

“That and other things,” He said, reading his mind. “-seriously, if you’re so damn picky…” Flips open another dryer, tossing some random clothes in. “-here, now it’s more comfortable.” Tips the basket towards him, waiting.

Taeyong rolls his eyes and grumbles, dipping both feet in, and folds himself into the hamper. His knees squash his chest, he can barely wiggle his toes. Oh, whatever. At least it smelled nice. 

“Also, put this on.” 

Gawks at the sparkly item in his hands.

“_No_.”

“Alright, cool, buh-bye.”

“Okay, okay, okay —wait!” Grabs his pant leg as he turns to leave. “-fine, fine, I’ll wear it, you weirdo.”

Stuffs the velvety hat over his head, mildly sulking.

Jaehyun just pinches the pompom. “-T’is the season to be jolly.”

“Fa-la-la-la-la —la-la-la fuck you.”

He's laughing all the way to the elevators. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas y’all


	6. the trip

“So what made you think,” Jaehyun twirls the tip of the hat. “-this was a good idea…?”

_ Idea…? _

Taeyong cranes his face up, massaging the side of his head. The fluorescent glare burns his eyes, periodic booming reminding him the elevator’s still going. Rumpled padding covers the walls, crimson and gold. _ An effort to look festive, huh? _It’s almost cozy. But the tiles stink of dog piss, cigarettes and peppermint.

“Getting drunk. Making an utter fool of yourself. Again.”

“Wasn’t...my idea to _ get_..._drunk_,” Shrinks deeper into the hamper. Tugs the hat completely over his face. “…screw you.”

“Oh, yeah? Whose idea was it —the _ bartender’s_? Did you even pay the bill?”

“S’on my tab. Figure it out tom’row…” 

He chuckles. “-Right.”

Taeyong peeks at him through the translucent red material, brow pinched.

“Anyways...whaddabou’ you?”

“Me? What about me?”

“Yer back, dumbass. Thought’cha never wanted’ta see me...like ever…?”

Jaehyun exhales. 

“Aren’t you massively funny,” Draws off part of the hat, til he sees his nose. “-_ you _ came to _ me_. Somehow, _ you _ managed to crash into me, you strange, lucky stalker.”

Snorts. “Don’t...see you runnin’...”

“You’re in a hamper. Your legs don’t work.”

“My hands do.”

Drops the hat, the pompom hitting the guy in the chin. 

“Creep.”

Taeyong’s laughter gets cut short by a jagged thud. The elevator shrieks. Jaehyun punches DOOR OPEN and the steel column jams a quarter of the way —a thick, long chunk of floor cutting their exit.

They’re caught between fourth and fifth.

Taeyong burps.

“Shit.”

“Dammit—!” Jaehyun strikes the door edge with his heel, getting it open another half-quarter. He kicks it again. Then again. Two-thirds open. Grits. “-useless—” Kicks. “-piece of—” Kicks. “-shit!” _ God, I wanna kill somebody —Lord God, who invented thi— _

“Jus’ ring the alarm bel—

“The fuck will that do?! You think someone’s gonna show up at this hour?”

“Yeah, cause bitchin’ will make ‘em come faster…”

“You know what —_fuck you._” Jaehyun grips the hamper and leans down right in his face. “-this is all your fault.”

Silence. The lights fizzle, the elevator remains stuck. Jaehyun turns around, holding his thumb on the alarm bell. He lets the trills ring through his soul, head down, eyes closed. 

Taeyong spits, almost laughing. 

“I _ broke _ the elevator? S’yer actually retarded?”

The other ground his teeth.

“You turned up in the laundromat and _ threw up _ on me—

“-Whish _ obviously _ broke the eleva— 

“-Which _ delayed _me from leaving and getting on this jackshit elev—

“-_You _ spilt pie onto _ yer _ own pants_, _ya dumbf—

“-_You _ never shoulda _ stolen _ the damn pie, you _ waste _ of—

Another thud rattles the floor. He turns, watching Taeyong crawl out the overturned hamper, muttering, gripping the edges, then the wall, and finally dragging himself up. He sighs. Leaning against the corner, he waves a hand at the gap.

“What’re you…”

“G-gimme a boost.”

He blinks.

“...what?”

“Jus’ ge’ me up, okay —I think I can fit thr—

“-And I don’t doubt you’re smaller, but I don’t think even your concave ass cou —look, the floor takes up 80% of the space, you needa be practically _ boneless _ if you wan—

Taeyong chokes, squashing his guffaws with a fist. Shakes his head when the other squints at him. 

“Nah, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

“Nah.”

“Come on. Is it funny?”

“Yup.”

“...I’m waiting.”

“B-bo…” Taeyong mumbles into his fist, dying. “_ -boneless pizza_.”

The other looks at him, genuinely concerned. 

“H...how can pizza have _ bone _in it…?”

_ Ok boomer. _Rolling his eyes, he wags his hand at the gap again, glancing at Jaehyun. 

“Jus’ go gimme a boost, aight —hurry up…”

Both hands gripping his waist, sighing, Jaehyun hoists him up, letting him balance his shins along his shoulders. His hands struggle to grip the floor edge. Finally, Taeyong manages to squeeze both arms through until the gap catches at his pits. 

“Shit.”

“Told you,” Mutters, his arms aching. “-now shimmy out, we gotta try something else.”

“No, no, no —kick it!”

“Wh— _ why_?”

“Kick it more —it’ll open farther.”

Gasps, teetering back a little.

“While I’m _ holding _you…?”

“No, you dumbo, _ let me hang_,” Wedges his arms out a little. “-_then _ kick it, then catch me again.”

Wincing, Jaehyun’s shoulders burn —dammit, even Taeyong’s boneless pizza ass was starting to weigh like a small planet —and he glares up at him, sweating.

“...”

“What...?”

“Are you _ actually _ stupid?”

“I don’ see ya comin’ up with any better ideas!”

“F-fine. Alright, okay, I’m really letting go,” He really was —arms like jelly now. Taeyong’s sockfeet were disgustingly close to his face. “-okay, three, two, wo—

“_Holy shiiii_—

Slips clean off, crashing hard on his back, jamming something in his elbow. Taeyong grimaces, rubbing his behind, gritting when he feels dampness along the pockets. After another few seconds, something sharp starts burning in his wrist.

“Crap. Shit. F…” He thumbs the spot and the throbbing deepens. “-oh, God. Oh, God, crap, fuck, I think I fucked up my wrist...oh, f...is that a tendon or a bo…”

“Wait _ —no, no, no_!” 

Jaehyun grabs at the edge, yanking his hand out just as the elevator slides shut. He hisses, pinching his thumb as the machine rumbles on. 

Pressing the nail to his lip, he stares down at Taeyong sprawled on the floor, struggling to tie a hoodie sleeve around his wrist with one hand. Jaehyun sighs, sinking down, being his other hand and they get it knotted through well enough. 

Taeyong notices the corners of his eyes glistening a little. 

“You, uh, okay…?”

“Clamped right over the damn thing,” He shows him the thumb. It looked purple. “-feels like it got stabbed into…”

Taeyong peers closer. “-fuck, I think you cracked it. Look,” He turned it so the light shone over the dints. “-split like glass, holy shit.”

“Great,” Jaehyun rises as the door reopened on 6th. _ Just what I needed. On Christmas, too._

Leaning down, he grabs Tae’s pits, dragging him out behind him. His heels scrape steadily across the carpet. Sometimes Jaehyun almost trips on the hoodie trailing by the guy’s wrist.

“So,” Sets him down by the door. “-you got any friends on this floor?”

“What kind? The ones who feed me?” Taeyong smirks. “-or fuck me? Or both?”

“Whatever makes you feel easier.”

He picks at the tangled threads in the carpet, getting plaster crumbs in his nails. “-neither.”

Jaehyun looks over at the elevators. 

“...do they let you sleep in the lobby office?”

“They’ve been closed since six.”

“Shit. Alright, what was your floor again?”

“1609.”

Glances at the exit.

“Look, I cannot drag your ass up another twentysomething flights of stairs.”

“An elevator, then.”

Jaehyun tucks his thumb behind his ear. It still burns. 

Taeyong stares up at him, distant.

“Then what do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know.” 

He rubs his eyes, digging for his keys. _ I need to drop you off somewhere or I can’t sleep. Somehow, I still care. Fuck. _

“Just leave me here.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Here.”

“Here. On the carpet.”

“Or rip open that fire extinguisher cabinet over there,” Taeyong snorts, glancing at the glass cover. _ Whatever makes you feel easier. _“-and stuff me inside.”

“You know, I stayed out here once.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Got robbed too.” Crosses his arms, an uneasy grin. “-_reading glasses_.”

“Shit, huh. Well,” Taeyong tugs his pockets out one by one. Gum wrappers, tissue bits and elastics roll out. “-don’t got much to steal so…” Looks up at him again. “-I’ll be just fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Like sure-sure? Completely sure.”

“More than the universe. And all those...fucking galaxies bouncing light around...warpin’ space and time.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“Is anyone?”

He swings the door open, glancing down at him still. Taeyong just looks down, arranging the trash from his pockets into neat little rows. Like getting ready to play Battleship or something. Something normal like that. He tears the gum wrappers into smaller and smaller pieces and rolls each into a tiny silver ball. 

When the door shucks closed, Taeyong keeps his eyes down, humming. Tries his best to ignore the buzzing along his shoulders towards his back. Nerves, nerves, nerves.He's alone (again). (But that never lasted long enough ever, now didn't it?). Gosh. So many doors. So many doors out here. (_It's okay, it's okay, they're laughing, but they're laughing behind doors. Doors are good, they're strong, they'll... It's okay, it's fine, soon my legs'll wake up and then maybe I can...)_

How long was it? It’s hard because he doesn’t have the time. But sometime later the door jangles and Jaehyun sticks his head out, almost looking at him. 

“Come on. At least take a shower,” He mutters. “-can smell your funky ass from the other side of the room…”

(~)

“This is how my mom always did it,” Jaehyun flicked off the foam sliding down Taeyong’s forehead. The guy sinks further in the tub, sighing, skin all warm and buzzing. Knocked his shoulder gently. “-here, give me your arm.”

Flung his left out, sending a spray across the other’s shirt neck. Smirks.

“Tell me when it hurts.”

Jaehyun proceeds to rub his thumb firmly across Taeyong’s forearm. It’s quick and sharp, leaving his skin red, burning slightly. He starts to notice flecks —thin, grey flecks coming off his arm. They resemble eraser shavings.

When a ring of them clump at his wrist, Jaehyun points with his chin. 

“See all that?” 

“Yeah.”

“Ever seen it before?”

“Nope," Taeyong picks off a piece, smushing it flat, frowning. "-what is this stuff?”

“Dead skin probably,” He laughs. “-it’s bluish-grey ‘cause our bodies pick up so much dust. Supposed to be white, I think.” _ I mean, when I scrub my face, it comes off white, so… _

“Can’t it just fall off by itself? Why speed up…?”

“It’s just something my mom did. Called it garbage. Scraping all that garbage off your body,” Jaehyun motions for his other arm. “-I insisted on doing it myself, later. My mom’s not exactly gentle.”

“It hurt a lot? Did you cry?”

“A bit, yeah. After a while, I just stopped showering with her.”

Taeyong scrubs at his head with his free hand, sputtering when foam got into his eye. Ducked his face into the tub water, trying to wring it out. It burns worse. Jaehyun hands him a damp face towel from the counter.

“You still talk to her? Your mom, I mean.” Wincing, mouth muffled by the fabric.

“I try. She means well, but,” Jaehyun looks down, laughing shortly. “-whenever I call, she, um, always tries to drag me into some church function again.”

“Oh. That kinda thing.” He grins too.

“Yeah. I don’t know what it is, you know, but. She feels better there.”

_ Dad always said it was her second home or something. Told her to go sleep there too, if she so wanted to. _ Recalled Dad’s face when Mom called them brothers and sisters on the phone. _ Like seeing cockroaches on the ceiling. _

“Divorced?”

“Not legally. Doesn’t live with Dad anymore. He changed states. So.”

“What about...?”

“Brother went to live with Dad.” Reaches over to wrench the tap on. _They got us to pick one, like the way you'd pick a scarf at Sears. _The water feels a little chilly now. He stops when it reaches Taeyong’s shoulders. “-it’s fine. It was.”

The other guy sways his arms under the water, leaning back, melting the foam off his nape. He wipes at Jaehyun’s shirt neck with the wet towel.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Still. And I’m keeping you up.” 

“I’m fine. Usually up until four, anyways.”

Snorts. “-why? Do you hate yourself?”

“I hate sleeping.”

“Nobody hates sleeping.”

“Sure.”

“No, I’m serious, man,” Taeyong sits up, tapping two wet fingers on the side of the other’s forehead. “-there’s something in here that’s tryna fuckin’ kill you. You stop sleeping, two weeks, you’ll rip your face off and die. Serious shit.”

“Alright," Jaehyun turns to tug a larger towel off the rung. He waits for the other guy to finally stand up. "-dry up, I'll find you a change of clothes."

He watches him leave, almost tripping at the ledge by the bathroom door.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, the term is kinda heavy rn, so updates will be kinda wack for the next two months lol


	7. part ii: the proliferation: the call

Sometime in the night, Taeyong rouses from a rustling at the bed’s edge. He makes out the dark, fuzzy shape of Jaehyun leaning over to slip on his slippers. Two strips of light slice the bed like highway lines. 

Running a hand through his hair, he sighs and shuffles off into the bathroom. The other winces, head ringing. The light went on before he shut the door. 

Jaehyun stays inside for a long time. 

Taeyong watches the light strips shift until they've reached the floor. He hears a cough, then another —strained, coarse, painful —while slippers scrape the tiles. Mucus-clogged, maybe even a few strings of blood. 

_ Is he sick...? Sounded fine a while ago _ . Well, then again, Tae _ was _ pretty drunk too a while ago, so what did he know? More coughing. Spattering pours after gasping —vomit, and a lot of it. _ Shit. Did I pass something onto him? _

It's quiet. More slipper scraping. Something grating and sliding —a cabinet? Drawer? —then coughing again. Panting, shaky. 

Doesn’t hear the rattle of pills, oddly. No running water either. No gentle clatter of scissors or a razor on the counter. _ So what's he doing...? _

Slowly, Taeyong inches himself to the edge of the bed. Peers over —good, not too far from the ground —covers his head in his hands. _ Boom_. Soreness blooms along his side —there'll be a pale bruise by morning. His ears buzz.

He crawls. Knees scuffing along the carpet while his hands felt for anything sharp. He’s lucky. Palms barely picking up grits and thread. Left pinky going numb.

Presses his ear to the door. Now he’s tense. No way of knowing when the other’ll twist the knob. He’s not used to this. Vulnerable. 

Breathing. Taeyong hears some sort of breathing —the kind after you've cried for a while. The kind when you were terrified. Almost thinks he hears the aftermath. All that clear snot getting in your mouth, salty and thin. 

“_Look, um...I don’t, I don’t mean to, um. I know it’s late. You’re probably sleeping.” _

Jaehyun laughs. It sounds more like crying.

_ “...I think I figured it out. That thing you said. I think I get it now.” _

Sucks in some breaths before clearing his throat.

“_Remember that, uh, that time when I came home early? It was so...quiet. So damn quiet. I was freaking out a little, haha. Couldn’t find you anywhere.” _

“_So then I go take a piss, I swing the door shut. And there...” _

Laughs again. Now he’s really crying.

“_You’re just standing there in the shower —with your clothes still on. Shower’s running, you’re fucking soaked and...and I don’t know.” _

Sighs, spitting into something soft. Wad of toilet paper, probably.

“_You’re holding my face and I’m just staring at you and you’re...you're telling me people aren’t good. They just aren’t good.” _

“_And _ _ I’m asking you why and you mutter something I can’t hear, so I make something up in my head and it makes sense.” _

Taeyong hears a cracking boom. The other must’ve banged his head against the drawers. Slippers scraping the tiles again, Jaehyun tries to force out even breaths. It breaks halfway.

_ “You know, every time I think about it, I make up something different. And it always makes sense. And I hate it.” _

A dim beeping starts to sound and he hears Jaehyun set something hard onto the floor.

“_Well, there it is. My time’s up,” _Instead of blowing his nose, he sucked it in. Breathes thickly. Continues through the beeping. _ “-they never give you enough time for these. Voicemail should be longer than three minutes. Fuck this. Not you. You’re okay. Are you okay...?” _

Eventually the beeping dies out. Both of them sit in silence.

“_You know, I don’t want you to take this the wrong —God, what am I saying, it’s not even recording. Whatever. Still, just understand me, now, for once. I’m not mad at you. But I’m not mad at me either.” _

Taeyong hears knees crackling, realizing the other’s stood up. He’s frozen for a few seconds, then he’s making a harried crabwalk back to the bed. 

Sank along the bed’s edge just as Jaehyun opened the door. Shielded his eyes, shrinking his shoulders. The other man chuckles.

“Did I wake you? Sorry.” His voice is still thick.

“Yeah. Heard some clanging in there.”

“Yeah...I, uh, felt kinda sick. It’s nothing. I shouldn’t eat cold stuff.”

“You on your period or something?”

Jaehyun glances towards the bathroom.

“Yeah. Sure. Let’s call it that.” _ Might explain the fucking mood swings. _“-or the other one. The one you get when you’re fifty.” Waves it off. “-mental pause.”

Snorts. 

“Right.”

Jaehyun flips the covers out and sinks back in. The other sits at the edge for a bit longer before he crawled back in too. They lie back to back. Though he barely moves, Taeyong can tell he’s not sleeping.

Waits for a while. When the older guy refuses to say anything, he peeks over.

“How long you gonna do that?”

Silence. Then groggy mumbling.

“...do what?” 

“Feel sorry for yourself. Like you’re fucking twelve or something.”

“Look, I—

“-At least _ close _ your damn eyes.”

“My eyes _ are _closed.”

Taeyong huffs, turning around. Stares at the shirt wrinkles in his back. 

“Well, clearly you’re still doing it wrong,” He paused. Then he blinks, fist smacking the pillow. “-I got it. No, seriously. Wait here —I’ve got a trick. Be right back.”

Threw the covers off and stumbled to the bathroom. Returned with a damp towel and a bottle of hair mousse. Knelt on the bed, sitting on his knees. 

“Come on, get up.”

“…”

“Come on, you’re not even _ sleeping. _Get up —it’ll just take a few seconds.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, sighing. Pulls himself to sitting. Glances at the bathroom. 

“You forgot to clo—

“-I’ll do it later —gimme you hand,” Shook his head. “-no, just one. I need your other one free.”

Covered Jaehyun’s palm with a thick layer of foam. Then he covered his own too. 

Taeyong sits up, jerking his chin behind him. “Reach into my backpocket, and get the thing. Go, dig —come on.”

The other knit his brow, slipping his hand awkwardly behind, sifting through the jean pocket. Something smooth and rectangular knocks his fingers and he tugs it out.

Bubbles under the triangular cap wink in the weak light. Jaehyun looks back at him, choked.

“You’re crazy.”

Taeyong snorts.

“What’s new, genius?” Drops the bottle, taking the lighter from him. “-here, lemme show you how it’s done.”

Flicks the button, an oval flame fluttering at the tip. Sets it right over his palm. _ Foom. _

Grins, bringing the blaze closer to him. 

“Yeah, get in, marvel a little. Pretend it’s your birthday.”

“Don’t…don’t you feel anything...?”

“Nah, the foam’s good. Just a little tickle.”

“You…” Shook his head, amazed. “-are you even human?”

“Almost. Kidding —I’m kidding. Come on,” Gestures for his hand. “-here, put yours next to mine. I’ll share it with you.”

“Uh, actually, i-it’s okay, you do—

“-Gimme your hand, come _ on_,” Grabs at the other’s wrist, but he recoils. Grits, rolling his eyes. “-it’ll be fine, look, I’ve done this a thou—

“-No, no, no, stop —okay, I don’t want—

“-Or I’ll scorch your face.” Thinks for a moment. “-no, actually, I’ll let you choose. Do you want it on your face or your throat?”

He doesn’t back down. Flinches when Taeyong shoves the flame right under his chin, laughing as he pulled it back.

Jaehyun glares, shakily setting his palm beside the other’s, bracing for the shock. 

The bed of fire devours the foam and connects their hands together. A bridge of light. He’s paralyzed. Sure, the other was right. Just barely a prickle. But the heat was real. The fire seemed to sneer at him, waiting for him to panic.

“H...how long d-do we have to…?”

“You decide. I’ll let you put it out. Careful,” Taeyong smiles. “-if you move it even slightly, you’ll lose an arm.”

Jaehyun looks like he wants to smack the fire in his face and burn them both. 

“Yeah, why not? Go for it. You’re in control.”

Keeping his eye on the flame, his other arm feels blindly for the damp towel. His shoulder aches. His wrist trembles. When the cloth finally grazes his fingers, Jaehyun flings it over the fire. 

The light dips out.

Smoke hisses, but he feels no burn. Just soap. Fuschia, seared. Just smoke and wet towel. Yanks his hand back, wringing it. 

Taeyong’s chuckling, already lying back down. Snatches his lighter and shifts his bum around, stuffing it back in his pocket. 

“How’re you feeling?”

The other stares at the mess. Breathes through his teeth. Pushes hair out of his face, then pushes off the bed. 

He watches Jaehyun squat down and drag open a drawer, pulling out the spare blankets.

(~)

“Look, I’m really sorry about this…”

Taeyong chuckles, rearranging the comforter in the tub. He leans the pillow vertical against the wall. “-chill. I get it. Really, I do.”

Jaehyun sets a row of water bottles by the sink cabinets. Digs in his worn satchel, drops some granola bars beside them. Looks over, sighing.

“You know, I’m not doing this to be an asshole. I just…” 

“I know. You don’t gotta expl—

“-I’m doing this for your own good. Okay. Fine. _ My _ own good,” He glances behind him, back at the bed. “-I just really, really don’t feel safe sleeping in the same…”

“Like I said, it’s fine. Honestly. Don’t sweat it.”

“Hey, if you’re claustrophobic, I can stay here instead and you can—

“-No, no, it’s fine —it’s your room, anyways. Seriously. It’s good enough you're letting me stay over.”

“Do you wanna go back to your place?” Adds when the other doesn’t reply. “-I can wait with you at the elevators. Though I’m not sure I’d…”

“Nah,” Taeyong sinks back against the rumpled blankets, shifting to his side. The tub smells faintly of citrus and lab florals. “-plus, I’m fried. Needa get some sleep.”

“I’ll unlock the door in the morning, okay?” Jaehyun rises to leave. _ Shit, what’s wrong with me…? Treating him like some kind of dog… _ Glances back again, but other’s already shut his eyes. _ It’ll be fine —not like he’ll suffocate or something. It’s filled with blankets not water. _

Frowns at the window, the sky’s already turned a pale shade of indigo. He’s got four hours, maybe five max. Fantastic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fire trick is real; but it's slightly more complicated: you need to mix a type of flammable gas (e.g. butane) with a mixture of soap and water. the bubbles become highly flammable, but the soapy layer protects your skin from burns. then, all you need is a lighter and voila! You a fire bender (pls be careful if u do try this at home, guys...)
> 
> i swear, i read that marina abramovic did this fire thing at some point, but i can't seem to find it now...


	8. the wake

When Taeyong hears the knob twist shut, he lifts his cheek off the pillow and waits. Listens for the other’s footfalls, the creaking as he returned to bed. Waits another few minutes.

When he’s sure Jaehyun’s asleep, he slips out the makeshift bunk. Pushes the water bottles out of the way. Gently grips the edge of the cabinet door, slowly pulling it open. 

It’s a total mess. Half-used hair gel bottles, toothpaste and lotion tubes. A ripped open package of Dial soap. Several dented boxes of Garnier hair dye in varying shades of brown. A magenta box of... Tips the carton with his fingers, blinking. Whoa. Tampons. 

_But where was that_… Rummaged his hand back and forth —_I’m sure I heard something buzzing while he was setting down the… _

There. Found it. Taeyong snatches up the dark object —an old Motorola buried under a stack of face masks. 

Flipped it open, the number pad aglow in red. Clicked a side button, feeling the phone buzz in his hand. But that’s it. Just a dark screen. 

Shit. Thing’s dead. 

He leans against the cupboards and sighs, slipping the phone into his backpocket. Maybe he can find a charger in the morning.

(~)

Jaehyun wakes from a bag of freezing milk dumped over his face. He shouts, spitting all over the bed, wiping the liquid anxiously out of his eyes. Blinks, panting, trying to dry his face against the totaled pillow case when a bony hand gripped his collar, wrenching him up. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

A woman’s voice.

“Y-You’re room…?”

“Yes. My room. My fucking room. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe—” She smacks her jacket pockets for her keys, then her hips, gritting at the dried shampoo along the wrinkled sheets. “-_and _ you brought someone over and fucked them with _ shampoo _—are you out of your fucking mi—

“-No-no-no-no-no, wait, wait _ —please _ —look, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay —I’m just as confused as y…” Jaehyun pulls himself to sitting, and takes the blanket, but she tears it out of his grip. Flung the empty milk bag at him. 

“Wipe your face later. Off the bed. Now.”

He keeps his eyes down. Winces, his foot just went numb. Shook it stiffly, then peeled the remaining covers off, setting both feet on the floor. Didn’t dare look at her —she might bash his face in if he so much as brushed her jeans. 

Lowered himself onto the carpet, sitting cross legged. Still looked down, trembling. Felt like he was being sentenced or some shit. 

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

“I…” He began, itching from his shirt collar sticking to his chest. “-um, I, uh —look, I—

“-Actually, hold it for a second,” She yanked his face up by the hair. “-how the fuck did you get a copy of my key…?”

“I—

“-You bribed front desk, didn’t you. How much did you pay them, huh? A hundred dollars? Three hundred? Five hundred?”

Jaehyun opens his mouth, but then closes it, knowing talking would only make it worse. This was one of her oldest tricks. He had to let her talk. 

But this time, it's different. This time, she stays silent, waiting for him to answer. Waiting for him to mess up. 

“Okay, look, I—

A muffled boom from the bathroom interrupts him. They both glance at the door. Jaehyun suddenly remembers who’s in there and almost has a stroke. 

He scrambles towards the door on his knees as the woman rushes after him, gripping the shoulder of his pajamas. 

“Hey, what’re you—!” She stares wildly as Jaehyun turns the lock and the door reels open. 

A skinny guy lies passed out over a disarray of hair products. A dented box of tampons floated in the toilet. In the tub was a mound of blankets completely drizzled in toothpaste and hair gel. 

The woman sank to her knees, speechless. She began to scream. Jaehyun glanced at her and reached over to grab Taeyong by the back of his shirt and dragged him across the carpet, out of the room and down the hall. 

(~)

When Taeyong finally gains consciousness, he finds himself on the floor, leaning against a quilted wall. Something's familiar. He blinks. _Oh_. _Okay_. Somehow, he’s back in the elevator. 

Peering around, he notices Jaehyun squatting in the corner, panting, feverishly scraping hair off his face. He’s wearing a single slipper. His hair’s all spiky. Some kinda white stuff stuck to his lashes. He kind of stank. 

“Yo. Are...are you okay…?”

“No. No, I am not,” He grits each word like it’s a thorn in his hip. “-I am most definitely _not_ okay.”

“Wh...what’s that _stuff_ on your fa—

“-Milk. It’s milk. Sh-sh-she d-dumped milk all over m…” He covers his face in his hands, then yanks them away, he can’t stand the smell. Wipes his palms over his ratty pants. Pinches one eye closed and starts picking off the dried bits on his brow. 

“_She…_? W-wait, who…”

Jaehyun looks at him and coughs, spitting straight on the ground. Picked a strand of hair off his tongue. _ Was that in the milk too, or… _ This was too much. This was all too much, he couldn’t. 

He hobbles over, still squatting, one hand on the quilt for balance. With the movement of the elevator and the searing fluorescence, his head screams. He sits down. 

“You...you should probably...go after…” Jaehyun stares up at the dwindling numbers, bleary-eyed. “-after this thing reaches the lobby.”

“What...? What‘re you talking about?”

“I’m not...I…” He shook his head. “-I made a mistake. I made a very, very bad mistake last night and I don’t know if it’s gonna get any better.”

“Mistake?” Taeyong grips his wrist to get him to stop shaking. “-the fuck did you do?”

“I took you to the wrong room. I...We went to the wrong room...” Jaehyun rose shakily, still leaning most of his weight against the wall. “-the woman that did this to me,” He swallows, wincing. “-that woman...it was my ex-wife...she was my ex-wife.”

_ What…? _

He nodded weakly, pressing a hand against his head, wincing. 

“We were in her room. I think I’m going insane.” 

(~)

“Do you have a charger, by any chance?” 

The TechSource cashier turns around, eyeing the Motorola in Taeyong’s hand. He lets out an uneasy laugh. 

“For that old thing?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“No worries. Lemme have a look around…” He sank down, twisting a key into a cabinet below the register. Pops it open, digging around the mess of wires. “-let’s see...huh, shit. Looks like you got lucky, buddy. Here. Give this one a try.”

“Thanks,” He takes the loop of cable, eyes darting around the store. 

“Right over there. Yeah, by the tablet cases, there’s a couple sockets.”

As he heads over to the aisle, Taeyong thinks back to the elevator conversations. It’s been three days. He still couldn’t quite believe what happened. There he’d woken up, with Jaehyun trembling in the corner, going on about having gone into his ex-wife’s room. He sounded crazy. Maybe he was crazy. 

He didn’t know what to tell him. He’d been out from bathroom til quilted wall, he barely remembered a thing. Jaehyun kept asking him if he’d heard screaming, or crying or shattering from the other room. Taeyong had shook his head. He’d been asleep. He hadn’t heard anything.

When he’d offered to go back to the room to check for him, Jaehyun had shaken his head furiously, completely terrified. _ She’ll kill you. I swear, if you even ran into her in the hall, she’d grab her keys and strip out your eyes. _

He’d laughed. _ She’d kill _ me…? _ I never did anything. What’s she got to do with me? _

_ She saw you with me. I opened the bathroom door and you were passed out on the ground and there was a mess and everything. She thinks you’re collateral, somehow. Like I’m messing with her by messing with you. _

_ But we haven’t done anything. (And aren’t you both not seeing each other anymore?) _

_ It doesn’t matter. _

He’d gone off to the lobby bathroom after that, telling him not to follow him. Taeyong had felt something pinch his backpocket, remembering the Motorola again. 

He’d called after him, saying maybe they could talk it over lunch or something. He didn’t mind. Jaehyun had looked back, but said nothing. He’d decided to give him some space. Three days. Three days, he hung outside the dining hall, watching Jaehyun sit by the same table by the windows. Leaning over the same soup, staring into the same mug. Sometimes he’d go off to the back garden and fall asleep on a stone chair. Other times, he went into the elevator and disappeared.

_ So here I am, _ Taeyong sighs, clicking the tiny drive into the slot. _ Snooping in his ex-wife’s phone. Loser. _He scanned the wall and found the sockets under a row of zebra patterned Wacom cases. An image of Vampire Knight flashed in his mind. He smiled.

He’d drawn one of those guys back in high school, just a little birthday sketch for his sister. Those razor jawlines, giant eyes. Impossibly long torsos. It made him cringe just thinking about it, but she’d liked it. 

Now that he thought about it, she was the only one who’d never questioned his leanings to the arts. He should call her. They haven’t talked in almost two years. 

When the Moto’s 47% charged, Taeyong pulls it off the socket. Hands the cable back to the cashier and heads out. The chimes ring behind him, the cold air rakes his face.

Stuffing the phone in his pocket again, Taeyong heads back to the hotel. He’d wanted to go through it, but when he flipped the Moto open and the applications glowed back, something in his chest sank. He couldn’t do it. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t his life. 

Taeyong makes a left, entering the muggy hall. Scrambled eggs, boiled broccoli, watery dumplings. Burnt coffee. Lysol. Raisin bran. Palmolive dish soap. All of it swarms his nostrils at once and he feels like puking. 

Amid the wavering sea of heads, he spots Jaehyun picking at his soup by the window again. 

He sighs, shifting the Motorola around in his hand. He heads over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might be another while before i update again, so here's a bit more for now... (now that they're in this mess, get ready for flashbacks galore lmaooo)
> 
> have quite a bit to catch up on during reading week, so see y'all after then, haha


	9. the shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~currently brainstorming a playlist for this, will be up soon~
> 
> update: altered things a bit; felt like it was missing something

They sit in silence. Taeyong dips a chopstick in a shallow well of soy sauce and starts painting a face on his napkin. He scrunches his brow, working diligently, itching for the other to make a remark. 

After a while, Jaehyun apologizes, heading off to the restroom again. 

The other watches him leave, scraping texture into his canvas with a fork. _ Huh. Maybe he really was the first man in the world to get a period. (Should I get him some Advil?) _

(~)

“You gonna finish that?”

Jaehyun looked down at the partly torn wonton sunk in his soup. 

Pushes the bowl over, looking at the window. “-take it.”

“Ayy…” 

Taeyong stabs a fork in, popping the wonton in his mouth. Juice dribbles down his chin, then he winces. Spits the whole thing back in the bowl, spattering broth onto the tablecloth. 

The other stares at him, taking a thin sip of water. 

“Ginger,” Taeyong wipes his lip, scooping the strip out with a chopstick and flicking it onto the napkin. Starts spooning the chewed bits back in.

Jaehyun groans, covering his mouth with a fist. Redirects his gaze to the carpet, feeling his liver shrivel.

“What?” In between chews. “-it’s my own spit —I eat it all the time.”

“There’s at least twenty more in the—“ Glances at the row of steel cookers in the far aisle. “-just take a hike and get some fresh—

He’s met with soft, derisive laughter. Taeyong stabs the fork into the cloth, making the whole table jilt. A few people glance their way. A waiter fumbles with greasy dishes, before dumping them into a soapy basin. 

“-S’matter with you?” He jabs, picking out a shred of pork from his teeth. “-am I making you eat it?” Gnaws his thumb nail. “-you want me to?”

The other leans back in his chair, eyes narrowed. For a moment, it’s hard for him to speak.

“Excuse me...?”

“I think you give way too many fucks about things that don’t matter.”

“You think you know?”

But he says it too quietly. Taeyong glares on, waiting. 

“You think you know where I distribute all my fucks?” He tries again. “-Like it’s some kind of laser tag and you’ll see shit light up whenever I shoot one into the void?”

“Is that how you see it?”

Jaehyun almost speaks, then stops himself, jaw flexing. 

He can’t do this here. Too many people, still. They’re all watching, eyes on the backs of their heads. Taeyong knows this. He’s doing it again. Fashioning a spectacle out of dead air. Molding him into something he’s not. 

(Or maybe...)

Or maybe he _ is_. Maybe he _ is _ like this, and Taeyong’s done this long enough so he sees it all, all too easy now. A seasoned skinner. Maybe he just knows how he operates. How they all do. 

“Hey. What’s up with you?”

Jaehyun looks up. Taeyong holds a chopstick in his hand, the tip dotting brown onto the tablecloth. His little soy sauce painting has almost dried, turning the napkin all crinkly. His bowl is empty. Jaehyun looks down. The soup with the torn wonton still sits there.

“Real possessive ‘bout your food much or what?” The other laughs, getting up with his own bowl. He looks over to the breakfast bar. “-alright, I’ll get some more myself. Enjoy the solitude, I guess.”

(~)

“So I was thinking about it yesterday,” The girl sat down across from him in the office. She pulls out her phone and scrolls down through the photos. “-the way he describes the house —ribbons of concrete, winding in and out like a serpent —and I found this.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

Jaehyun studies her sweater, a buttery orange, bits of wool sticking out along the sleeves. Her hair clung with grease, her scalp flaky. Wisps along her neck glow from the sunlit window. 

“I found this thing called the brain cactus—

“-The _ brain cactus_—?”

She starts laughing. Zooms in on the photo with two fingers, turns the screen to him. Jaehyun leans closer, taking it in. Smells linseed oil and Vicks. 

The cactus resembled a compressed maze —endlessly folding and twisting into itself until it really did become something like a mutant brain. Its needles curled and crept along every edge like micro-hairs. Swelling with life, as though real muscle and bone hid beneath. He glances at her. The side of his neck burns.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“How did you find this?”

“I was thinking about concrete becoming serpent-like, so I thought maybe there was some kind of rope —actually, there’s a type of rope used for mountain climbing called snake-rope —and then I saw this image in the Related bar, and then—

“-And then brain cactus.”

“Yeah,” She laughs again. He laughs too. He pulls up Google Images on his desktop and types in <brain cactus>. Rows upon rows of them flood his screen. Jaehyun just stares for a while. Clicks on one —tawny fuzz with branches the shape of cheese puffs. 

“And they’re not all the same. Look at how creepy this one is…”

“No kidding…” She chuckles. “-they come in many variations...I think the one I liked was...mammillaria elongata...that one.”

“Yeah?” He leans back in his chair, frowning empathetically. “-well, I’m glad the research is going well...and I’m always excited to see what you find. You have this great curiosity for the world and I appreciate you sharing it with me —I feel like I always learn something new.”

“And have you thought about it? Staying here longer —maybe at least as a sessional instructor?”

Jaehyun shook his head. He glanced at the scattered papers on his desks, the highlighter stains, the loose staples, then finally her. 

“I’m just filling in for a friend. Technically, I don’t even have a license. When he returns from vacation, we can’t really let the administration know I’ve been here. With you.”

”But have you ever considered it? Teaching full-time? You know, instead of...”

He laughs.   
  
  


“I don’t think I could handle another degree. You know, maybe I don’t look like it, but I’m not so young anymore. Maybe five, ten years ago, I’d give it a shot, but now...” Sighs. “-if you could take the tests for me, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Would you?”

She says nothing, looking away. Readjusts her ponytail.

”Sorry, that was a bad joke. And none of this is your fault. If I’d decided to go into education instead of listening to my father...”

She sets her phone in her lap, placing her thumbnail sketches onto the desk. Flips to a page he hasn’t seen before.

“How’s the contracting work? You think you’ll find something after this?”

“I have to. I’ll get something. Don’t worry about it. Focus on your project—“ He pauses to admire her storyboards, layered in detailed sticky notes. “—you’ve got a good momentum going.”

“You know, if you’re really stuck, you can always try tutoring. I’ve got relatives nearby who’re looking for—

“-It’s really fine!” He draws back, immediately feeling guilty for making her jump. Clears his throat. Fiddles with a pen in his other hand. “-sorry, it’s just…” Shook his head. “-you know, I’ve been…”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ve just been so tired…” Glances at the window. “-there’s been a lot of messiness going on...moving things around, unpacking, repacking —I don’t think I’ve slept properly in the past three months.”

She nods.

“Yeah. I haven’t gotten much sleep either.”

“Are you...having trouble in your other classes?”

“Oh, no,” She shook her head. “-I just don’t like sleeping. That’s all.”

(~)

When Taeyong returns, Jaehyun’s begun to twist and shape the remaining napkins into a rose. He’s torn off the places with stains, so the flower looks more like a tattered baseball. 

He starts crumpling it when he catches the other looking —who snatches it from his hands. Straightens the petals out again, blowing on it with care. 

“Don’t wreck it so soon. It’s not that bad.”

“It’s ugly as fuck.”

“What do you know, anyways?” Taeyong mutters, sinking onto the opposite chair. Sets down his bowl of chilli and hash browns. “-it’s ugly because you made it wrong. You need to twist it tighter in the center or it starts falling apart.”

“I wasn’t really trying.”

He snorts. It sounds sadder, somehow.

“Figures.”

Jaehyun turns his attention to a tapping against the window. A ragged mound blocks some of the sun and when it shifts, he realizes it’s the back of an old woman. Her shawl glimmers with dirt and loose sequins. From the gesture of her hand, Jaehyun can tell she’s asking for money. 

Taeyong looks over. He watches for a little while before picking up his fork. Even when he leans down to eat, his eyes shift in her direction. Not looking directly, but at a spot along the floor. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever know the right way to treat those people.”

  
  
Jaehyun frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“People always tell you different things. Give money. Don’t give money. They need it more than you. They’re lying. They’re using you.”

“What do you believe?”

“I don’t know. You think I can see inside their minds?” Taeyong sighs. Chews on a soggy piece of potato. “-I'll tell you what I do, though. Most times, I give money. I never question them or anything. Just give it and go.”

He avoids Jaehyun’s eyes as he continues.

“Of course I know they could be lying. Maybe they’ve fooled me more than half the time. And sometimes I don’t know if they really need it more than I do.” 

“Do you regret giving?”

“Sometimes. I can’t help it. I know some of them will just use the money to make things worse.”

“Yeah. It’s not like you can just follow them around like Adult-Child Services and make sure they’re doing alright.”

“What about you?” Taeyong slumps his cheek against an elbow. Scrapes a pepper flake off his lip. Wipes it onto the bowl. “-how do you handle these things?”

“I’m not too sure either, to tell you the truth. But I can tell you about something that happened a while ago. I still think about it sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

“I was waiting at the bus station. A middle-aged lady approaches me, the paper she’s holding catches the corner of my eye. I’m already reaching for my wallet.”

“By the time she’s asking for money, I’m digging through my receipts and credit cards and coupons —she’s telling me this story about how her husband died in a car accident last month and she’s a single mom with three children and no job. I’m nodding, only half-listening, trying to figure out how much to give her.”

“All I find is a ten dollar bill. It’s all the cash I have left, but I still have debit, I always bring it. I figure, whatever. Give her the ten bucks —she can buy some McDonald’s for her kids. I wish you’d seen it —she nearly tore the bill from my hand the moment I pulled it out.”

“And she says ‘this is ten dollars’ as she takes it from me. I say ‘yes, it is’. She says ‘please, I need one hundred dollars, I’m out of work, there’s an ATM nearby, I’ll pay you back, I promise’. I look past her and see my bus at the traffic lights. I tell her I’m sorry. I keep telling her I’m sorry and that I have no more money. She leaves. She moves to the person sitting nearby and starts telling them the same story. She keeps the ten dollar bill flashing in her hand —like she hopes they'll give her more.”

Taeyong regards him with concern. He straightens up, then leans back down on his elbows, looking to the side. 

“How do you feel about it? All of it?”

“I don’t know. After I got on the bus, I thought about it for almost the whole ride. Dad would’ve straight up called me stupid for giving so much money to a random woman. He would’ve assumed she was very attractive and tricked it out of me. So I felt stupid.”

“I only gave her the bill because I had no coins. And I kept thinking about the way she wrenched that bill away from me. Like it’d never been mine in the first place.”

“Well, that’s not entirely untrue,” Taeyong chuckles. “-none of us actually own the money —we just take turns using it.”

“I kept thinking about how she’d probably lied. Why else would she have grabbed the bill like that? I know. Bullshit reasoning —if you’re desperate for money, of course you’ll grab it. And I was irritated that she asked for more. I’d already given her more than most people are willing to give five people —so how could she be so ungrateful that she’d…”

Jaehyun sighs and sank his face into his elbows. He’d downed three espressos earlier and now he had a raging migraine. He kept on getting the feeling he had to pee, but whenever he got to the washroom, it disappeared and he’d just wash his hands like an idiot. 

“You know, I was nearly having a decent day until I met her. I’m not blaming her or anything, it’s just…” He shook his head. “-if I was a better person, I would’ve just given her the money and moved on, not mulling over it like some…”

He hears the chair legs scrape the carpet and looks up to see Taeyong leave. He disappears out the dining hall. A short while later, he sees him outside, approaching the lady by the window. 

He starts chatting with her, and Jaehyun doesn’t know if it’s from the sunlight, but Taeyong looks different. He speaks with a soft expression, his eyes clear and steady. Jaehyun sees the woman’s back shaking and realizes she’s laughing.

She grasps Taeyong’s wrist and says something to him. He shakes his head, chuckling and holds her hand with both of his. Leans his head down a little, telling her one last thing before he lets go. 

Squeezes her shoulder gently and then he really lets go. Waves before heading back inside. 

After Taeyong sits back down, he knocks Jae’s shoulder lightly. 

“Hey. I gave ten bucks too. You can stop feeling stupid now,” He snorts softly. “-or we can feel stupid together. Your choice.”

When Jaehyun says nothing, just staring at the tattered napkin rose, the other squeezes his hand until it hurts and knocks the side of his head against his.

“You’re not stupid, okay?” He mutters. “-you’re _ not _ stupid.”

  
  



	10. the line

“What are you doing?” 

Jaehyun winces, the needle scraping his thumb when he glances up. She sinks down, combing some strands behind her ear. The corner of her lip is blistered. Cold sore. _ Never listens, huh? Seorin and those Sichuan shrimp chips. Inseparable. _She ignores his staring, pointing with her chin. 

“That’s gotta be the freakiest scarf I’ve ever seen,” Chuckling at the mustard green frills, running her fingers over the knit. He yanks it back gently, ears flushing. 

“It’s not a scarf.”

“No? Hmm…” Her eyes light up, then she whispers into his ear, grinning. Starts ugly laughing when his whole face goes red, shoving her shoulder. “-what? We’re not kids anymore, jeez. You can tell me, come on.”

“It’s...not like that…” Jaehyun drops his gaze down, trying to fix a loose knot. _ And wouldn’t it itch, anyways? _“-it’s more like a decoration.”

“Decoration?”

“Yeah, actually I’m gonna clean one of those empty pots lying around the balcony...fill it with little pebbles. Need something to hold this thing straight,” _ Should I tell her it’s a brain cactus? _Wounds the wooly ring into a messy spiral. “-Like this.”

She nods, pressing her thumb over his, the spot he pricked himself.

“Oh, so like a plant kinda thing,” Picks a ball of yarn off his hair, flicking his cheek lightly. Glances at the dishes in the sink. “-your turn to bathe the kids.” 

Jaehyun peers at their cracked window ledge. Strips of plaster crowd one corner. He buried a dead bee there last week. _ Is it still there? _

“We should get a cat. Or a fish. Or a cactus.” 

“Or you could clean up the balcony. Keep the trash —make us a little Japanese rock garden for cheap.”

He groans.

“You _ know _ I don’t want to move things around when they’re in the middle of construction…”

“And when’re they gonna be done? Next month? Next year? Shit, if the shower broke, you’d wait til lice fester before calling—

“-That’s different —we _ need _ to shower, we don’t _ need _the balc—

“-So next time they drop by how about you tell ‘em just dash the whole thing off so I don’t have to look at it anymo—

“-God, why’re you alwa—

“-Look, I don’t even have energy for this —I had no breakfast this morning, worked a whole day —I come home,” She grips her temple, teeth grinding. “-_hoping, _ not even expecting, just _ hoping _ you might fix us some food —or order something, whatever —and I see you _ knitting._”

Seorin grabs the mound of wool and flunks it at his chest.

“And it’s not a scarf. Not a hat. Not a wallet,” Picks it up, scrunches it into a ball. “-you can’t even throw this little weirdo into a pan and stew the bitch with the canned tuna.”

“I could sell it on Ebay.”

“And you’ll find it back here two days later, and it’ll be another ten bucks off my paycheck.” She snorts, almost proud of herself. _ God, ever since he quit that surge firm —Neosomething, he’s just been... _

“You really have no faith in me, do you?” 

“It’s not about faith. Honey, sometimes I think…” Shaking her head, not even looking at him anymore. “-your mind...the way you think, it’s not normal. It’s like you were born backwards or something.”

Jaehyun notices her knees trembling, but she doesn’t sit down. _ Won’t get a shred of dirt on those trousers_. _ Imitation Armani _ —he still remembers the sourness in her face, feeling the fabric. 

_ You don’t even care enough to get me the real thing? So that’s my worth to you._

He could never win with her. 

“I’ll go order us something. What do you want? Chinese or Thai? Japanese?”

“I don’t know.” Then she slips her hand into the wool, pretending it’s a sock puppet. Chuckles faintly. “-ask him. Or her.”

(~)

He feels a line along the space between Taeyong’s last two fingers. Jaehyun looks down, feeling a bit guilty. He’d disappeared again, four days this time. After they’d stayed for a while in the lobby couch and Taeyong had fallen asleep, he’d carried him to front desk, asked for the 1609 key. Dropped him gently onto the bed, picking up the covers from the carpet. When Jaehyun saw the window ledge, he laughed.

A shoe, a watch. Reading glasses. He should’ve known. 

Other than that, Taeyong’s room was no different from his. It made him feel ashamed, he was almost disappointed. He’d hoped to find more revealing things. A satanic shrine built from rodent bones. Jars of preserved monkey brains. A sex swing.

The room was almost scarier this way. Empty, wanting. 

And then he’d driven off to the gas station. Fallen asleep in his car. He was lucky he’d rolled the window down earlier. Waking up, he’d still had to go out, and sit on the curb for a while. It was sobering. He stuck a cigarette into his mouth. He didn’t light it.

Then he drove on. It took until the third bend for him to realize where he was going. Jaehyun stopped by the house. The curtains were drawn. He’d gotten out of the car, pressed his ear to the door. He heard footfalls and shuffling packages, humming. It sounded like there was more than one person. He felt sick. 

He drove to the nearest motel. He paid for a week’s stay, left four days later. He couldn’t stand it. The walls were too thin. In the early mornings, Jaehyun heard cries and heavy objects being smashed. It always lasted for several minutes, then replaced by hollow breathing. He reported it to the manager who only laughed at him. He told him he’d have to pay extra if he wanted them evicted.

And now he was back here again. He sighs. Turns Taeyong’s hand over his, watching the silver scar flash in the dining hall lighting. It’s long. Starts at the base of his pinky, it veers til his ring finger knuckle. 

From the shine, he knows it’s old. It won’t ever heal beyond this. 

“How’d you get this?”

“Oh?” Taeyong loosens his grip and brings his hand closer to their faces. Grins, somewhat embarrassed. “-played with knives a little too much after school, I guess.”

“Yeah? Did you do that thing?” Jaehyun does the motion, jumping two fingers across his other hand, over the gaps. The other laughs, staring at the carpet. _ So he had guts back then too? _Gestures to the cut again. “-that happen often?”

“Kinda, yeah. Friends were fucking wack —I always felt like I had to go super fast when they were watching —go, go, go, that kinda shit…”

“But you got better.”

“Yeah, I dunno. I stopped after a while. You know how hard it is to wash your underwear with cut up fingers?”

“I can imagine.”

He picks a flake off Taeyong’s eyelash. “-did you get better friends?”

“Nah. You know how some people are. Just can’t get enough. Won’t leave you alone, haha.”

He doesn’t think about it much anymore. But sometimes when he’s staring into the bathroom mirror at 4 am, Taeyong sees it play out in the recesses behind him. Snow. Slumped houses on his right, all that white stuff piling in everywhere, even getting into the pipes. In his pipes —windpipes, too. Gasping, his lip all cut, his throat searing. Teeth pink with bloody saliva. 

Wincing, he’s wincing, curled against the ragged row of pots lining his backyard tarmac. _ Twenty bucks if you swallow a handful of snow —No way, that’s fucking stupid —and twenty bucks, you kidding? _

_ Okay, okay, fine —here’s eighty —if you do that pot of snow —yeah, that one with the dead geraniums —and you got ten seconds— _

_ A hundred. I’ll do a hundred —ten dollars per second —you think I’m some kinda amateur? _

So ten seconds and a hundred dollars later, he felt fine, at first anyways. Taeyong only felt the slow, twisting crunch in his gut after his friend’s long left. Then the sun boiled into his ice-caked scalp while clumps of snow bled down his neck. 

When his sister wrenched the screen door open and dragged him indoors, Taeyong sank against the couch as she dried his hair, changed his wet clothes. His fever turned his vision all orange and muggy. But he still glimpsed her frustrated, weary gaze as she pressed a hot towel over his chest. 

When she asked him about it later, Taeyong lied. Mumbled it was his idea. She snorted. A crumpled bill stuck out from his balled up jeans on the floor.

“Your friend should be shot.”

“It’s...it’s not like that…he’s...”

Told her he was practicing for something. Something that would push the limits for what he thought his body could handle —reaching for some higher form of… 

_ You think he sees it that way? _

_ (...) _

_ And you still think it’s okay? _

(..._ sure.) _

By then she’s rinsing scallions in the sink, peeling the slimy outer skin, pinching off the yellowed tips. He hears the water running. When his foot’s numbness wears off, Taeyong limps to the fridge, clamping a twelve-pack of cheese strings in his mouth. Pauses. Yanks the fridge open again. Grabs a mini carton of strawberry yogurt. 

“Get the leftover broccoli for me? And some garlic.”

When Taeyong sees her struggling to crush the damp cloves, he motions for the cleaver. Uses the flat slide and his free palm, claps the stuff to smithereens.

“...I cut it wrong at the start. Garlic’s fault.”

He chuckles. “-okay. Whatever you say.”

“You okay in there?”

Taeyong shivers, registering the tablecloth under his elbow, the clatter of the waiter’s cart. Jaehyun straightens him back to his own chair, feeling his forehead, then his own. 

“Not quite a fever. Maybe you’re just dehydrated.”

He reaches over for Taeyong’s glass. Tilts it against his lip, most of it spilling down his collar. Makes a pointed gesture to place both Taeyong’s hands over the cup. 

“Do it for yourself, okay?”

But the guy just stares at the ripples, setting it back on the table after a while. Stares at the plates, forks, bowls, oil stains. Wipes his eyes, tasting salt in his mouth. It was coming back to him. Those days Jaehyun had been gone, those things took hold. His mind laid out, vulnerable. 

“Sorry. I’m okay.”

Jaehyun looks at him with a familiar weary gaze. Looks down, leaning his foot against his.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... it’s always a bit tough to figure out how long to make these things, but for now, i think nineteen looks good. the current part will run a bit longer, then the last part will be shorter, haha. 
> 
> take care, y’all :)


	11. the river

Climbing the steps of the front porch, Jaehyun’s hands buzzed with mild nerves. He stood at the door, finger hovering at the bell. Glanced towards the garage door, rechecking the serial number. The crumpled sticky note sat in his vest pocket and he pulled it out again. _ 3847 W— Street. _It’s right. 

He tried to peek inside the house from the thinly veiled window. A curved porcelain edge showed through, a couple foam darts rest by the ledge. From the shadow, Jaehyun thought it was a swan. Maybe a lizard. (He could have it backwards).

The television must be on. Something flickered red and blue behind the curtain, grainy voices shaping a jumpy cartoon. He could tell it wasn’t English. Cantonese? Or Spanish, maybe French.

_ Maybe this is a bad idea _

Jaehyun looked back at his Camry. He’d parked right by the curb and some maple seeds had whirled onto his windshield. The driveway was mostly clear. If he pulled out now, no one would even notice. He didn’t know this town’s towing laws either—if he lost his car, he might as well never come home. 

_ It won’t be long. Twenty minutes max —I can always talk rates over the phone. _

Instead of ringing, he knocked. When he heard nothing, he knocked again. Slippers shuffled inside and then a thirty-something woman in pajamas and dangling earrings appeared. She pushed the screen door out and stared at him, waiting.

Jaehyun blinked and straightened his worn blazer. 

“Hi, actually, I’m here because Hyojeong mentioned the other day that your son is looking for a tutor…?”

“Oh! Okay, right, yes —well, _ he’s _not looking for a tutor,” The woman chuckled, wiping flour-stained hands on her pants. “-Kevin would just love to shoot aliens all day, but now his English marks are taking quite the hit...” She sighed, looking out to the road, seeing the puddles simmering. “-well, why don’t you come inside.”

“So how do you know Hyojeong?” She called behind her. “-you work at the same coffee place downtown?”

Jaehyun followed her into the kitchen, setting his stuff down. She pulled out a seat.

She’s smart. Or maybe just cautious, like any mother was. Quizzed him on his background —more cautious when he said he’s a professor. _ Are you sure you wouldn’t be too busy? You must have a mountain of work to mark this time of year… _ And she was right. Exams began next month, Jaehyun hadn’t realized —only coming to campus once a week to meet with Hyojeong and discuss her architecture project.

Thankfully, the woman —Sydney —(funny, that was his wife’s English name too —but she never let him call her that) —never asked for his credentials. He’d decided to come here so suddenly, he had nothing prepared. _ Can she read that? _Instead, Sydney asked him about his family.

He started talking about Seorin —then realized she meant his childhood one. _Isn’t this_ _a bit personal...? _But he needed this gig. He knew Seorin bottled up her anger most of the time, but things always found a way of slipping out. He overheard her on the phone a couple nights ago.

_ Look, I don’t mind that he quit —but that thing gave him stability, a sense of direction. Now he’s drifting off into nowhere —or somewhere, I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me —he doesn’t tell me anything. So I think he needs it —he needs something to do —so he can feel useful or... _

_ ...I wish he’d just talk to me about it or something —but nooo, he’s got this man-thing where they just hate asking for help —especially not from —you know what, never mind. _

She’d paused as the other end rattled on for a while. Threw in a couple ‘yeahs’, ‘uh huhs’, a few chuckles. _ You have no idea _ —that was always her favourite line. People always had no idea, right? No one ever experienced things the way she did, huh? He’d gotten so irritated, he couldn’t even concentrate on making his after-eleven milkshake. 

_ You know he’s taken up knitting now? Yes, I came home and he was holding something that looked like Sesame Street roadkill. Yeah, I don’t know either. What if he starts climbing chimneys next week and bagging raccoons? _

He’d almost laughed. That was her, clever in all the wrong places. 

Sydney noticed he’d gone quiet and asked if he wanted some water. Jaehyun picked up the glass and felt somewhat better.

He described his mother and father separately —_Dad took us on fishing trips, Mom read us books —right, I had an older brother. Well, we kind of drifted apart —he’s a marketing consultant, so you can imagine… _

_ Mom? Oh, she’s great. Attends church not just Sundays, but Mondays and Wednesdays too. Can never have too much God in your life, right? Haha, I’m kidding —are you Christian? Okay. _

He never meets the kid. _ Kevin’s over at a friend’s birthday party —won’t be back ‘til six. Sorry. _Sydney handed him the wrinkled, chocolate-stained papers —the kid’s English essay from last week —Hamlet —an alarming 61. She leaned in, closely following as Jaehyun went over what Kevin needed to work on. _ See, his thesis lacks an argument —he’s just stating an observation —and here —second body paragraph has contradicting evidence... _

He zoomed through the rest, pointing out Kevin needed to vary his transition words, proofread for grammar and spelling. Basic, foundational things. It’s too easy. That’s what makes him uneasy when she plants the 20-dollar bill in his palm and tells him to come back next week. 

He wonders if Sydney lives alone. When he passed the living room to the toilet, he saw no photographs of the husband. Just a couple picture frames of Kevin over the years —soccer jersey, karate gear, beach trunks. Her photos of herself are from much younger ago. Her hair used to curl, she used to wear Ray Bans, roomier blouses. 

But he doesn’t smell anything funny in the washroom. There’s no strange pills in the cupboards. Nothing that could double as a razor. So Sydney was stable. Whoever he was, he didn’t bother her now. 

_ So I’ll come back then, _Jaehyun thought as he got back into his car. A little extra cash never hurt and maybe he’d get around to fixing that cold shower knob Seorin was bugging him about. 

  
(~)

Now that he looked back on it, Taeyong figures maybe she’d always meant to leave. All this time, she had just been getting ready. All this time, each time they’d gone to the river again, was another form of goodbye. 

She took her time. There was a lot she wanted to show him first. She disguised them as games —let’s find the shortest path through the forest, let’s build a tent out of fallen sticks and reeds, let’s follow that fox that just jumped into the brush. _ Let’s build a treehouse. _

When he was eight, Taeyong broke his arm falling down a tree. His hand had slipped on a cleft in the bark, breaking off the shard —he’d let go in panic when ants swarmed his knuckles. He’d only fallen four feet. But he landed in a gap in the roots, knocking his shoulder out of alignment. His ulna had cracked too. A short plank had slipped from his backpack, he’d fallen right against the hard edge. 

He’d sat in the wire basket at the back, legs dangling, gripping his arm, as his sister pedaled them to the nearest clinic. She tied their waists together with skipping rope to keep him from falling. Snot ran down his chin, but Taeyong didn’t dare move either of his arms to wipe. The searing white-cold burn made even breathing scary. Halfway there, it began to rain.

When they reached the squat, white building, they realized it was closed. The window was dark, the parking lot was mostly empty. His sister yanked at the door, slamming her palm against the Hours chart. Usually open all 24, it closed at 1 pm on Sundays. It was past four.

She took him to a drier part of the sidewalk under the canopy and told him to lie down. _ I can fix your shoulder, but you need to listen to me. You need to let go of your arm and not be scared. I can pull it back, but you need to relax. _ Taeyong nodded. He lay on the ground, but kept his hand on his arm. 

She gripped his hand, telling him to take it off, her voice still calm, level. He shook his head. She asked him again. He refused. She began trying to pry his fingers off and he started crying, telling her to stop. _ Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me —I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry... _She smacked his thigh and threatened to break his other arm if he didn’t listen. He let go.

Taeyong doesn’t remember much after that. Just her grasping him by the wrist with both hands —him mumbling _ no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no— _ and then the _ clunk _of his shoulder going back in place. He’d screamed. But then the pain disappeared and he only felt a numbing ache in his forearm. 

His sister took off her cardigan, twisting out most of the water. Then she tied it into a makeshift sling for him and pedalled them back home. She locked herself in her room before she could get yelled at. That evening, their father drove him to the hospital to get his arm in a proper cast. It took weeks for him to lose the tingling sensation that ran from shoulder to fingertips. Sometimes Taeyong even felt it in his dreams.

After that, his sister tried to get him to climb again. He never got very far. Even when Taeyong did reach the branch, he got too scared to shift into a crouch to hammer the plank in. Their “house” never advanced past a diving board.

Instead of a treehouse, they built a reed hut. It took months to complete. She taught him how to knot the reeds together to form bendable walls of the stuff. He wasn’t very good at first. His knots kept breaking, the reeds kept coming loose. Later on, they had to take their progress home —the birds were tearing it apart for nests, rodents gnawed holes, undoing even more knots. They kept the reed walls in the garage, behind the stacks of excess cork board. 

She let him cheat a little, in the end. Some parts of the house were secured together by duct tape or hot glue gun. It was getting colder. She didn’t want to still be building by winter. They set their hut in the reeds in late November, pushing rocks around it to secure its place. They prayed the snow wouldn’t dash the roof. 

It didn’t. In the spring, all they had to do was chase the raccoons out.

It was their secret place. Across the river, balancing himself along the patches of stone peeking out of the rushing water, Taeyong went there after school all the time. Against better judgment, they cut a skylight with Dad’s hacksaw. The roof was on a slant so they could see into the trees as well as up. Taeyong liked to draw the hares that often came to the woods edge in the early evening. Other times, he drew his sister. Sleeping, reading, sitting by the river, tossing in stones. She looked so solid, so sure. 

So stable.

(~)

One morning, Taeyong abruptly gets up and leaves, soon breaking into a run when he reaches the dining hall’s exit. Jaehyun drops everything and goes after him. Nearly trips on a loose bit of carpet, then he’s running too. 

Out of the loft, stumbling through the overgrown wild radish and thistle in the courtyard, Jaehyun catches his elbow just as they enter a thinly wooded patch —skinny conifers, the browning ferns and cones crunching under their feet. Taeyong yanks away and they head down an old trail by the road, pungent and orange with fallen needles. 

Taeyong keeps his eyes down, the side of his face twitching, thumb picking at the side of his hand. He gets into trouble when they reach a heavily rooted area, having to pick his heel and toes in and out of the gaps. Jaehyun tries to help —and whether from imbalance or impatience, gets kicked in the shin. 

By the time they reach the river, he’s too winded to stop Taeyong from going into the water. 

He slogs past ankle deep, grips a shale chunk and flings it into the marsh. He stays there for a while. Jaehyun watches his jeans darken, clinging to his calves. 

When he wades back out, Tae sinks down onto a lesioned rock, gripping his shoulder, wincing. He looks towards where he’d thrown the stone, his lip trembling.

“It’s gone,” He laughs weakly. “-it’s all gone...”

He tilts his face skyward and seems to breathe through his eyes. Wipes his damp chin. It’s gone before he started. 

“Gone? What’s gone?”

Taeyong hasn’t been back here in years —of course, it’d be gone. Leaves crumbled, people left. Nature always returned. Came back into itself. The circle of life, God. He shouldn’t be sad.

He tosses more stones into the river. Smaller and smaller, eventually he can’t tell where they land. 

Then Taeyong picks up a larger rock, setting it on his knee. Brushes off the dirt and dead grass bits. He looks towards the marsh again. 

Something quiet works in his mind before he speaks again. He smiles, mostly to himself. 

“When’s the last time you built a fort?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...decided to take this in a new route last night —it’ll be somewhat messier and more organic, but also more forgiving, in the end.


	12. the finding

“Look! It came back, just the way it was before.”

She follows Taeyong’s finger, watching the current rush across the rocks. It had rained heavily yesterday and now the river rose to more than twice its old height. Loose soil, roots and fallen leaves had mingled in, making the water lose its clarity. A red yogurt seal blew in, disappearing completely. 

But that’s not what he meant. Taeyong recalls an old river that had run behind their old house. They played there before they learned how to swim. But it was fine. They never even ran their hands through it. Sour vegetation stink kept them at arm's length, just where the dirt gave way to gravel. 

“Watch your fingers!”

He snorts as Jaehyun catches the base of the rock, steadying it along the two beneath. He grabs Taeyong by the wrist and checks his hand. Just some whitish redness at the joints.

“Take it easy, hey? It’s not a race.”

He pauses. 

“Okay.”

The water carried many dead, forgotten things. Crushed pizza boxes, shrunken jerseys, melting ramen cups. Broken lawn chair legs, grocery papers which bled out until they resembled abstract watercolours. A skeletal squirrel slogged by too, once.

His sister shook her head, shoving his shoulder lightly. _ It’s not the same river, idiot. Just connected to the same sewer channel. _But he didn’t care. It was good enough —just enough for him to forget they moved.

One day, Taeyong noticed a mound caught by a rock. He grabbed a bare umbrella pole he kept in the reeds and scoured it in. 

It broke in two before he got it to shore. It was a dead heron. 

Split at the throat, its head drifted off like an old necktie, soon lost to the rush. Long, banded legs picked up gravel like panko, a webbed toe grazing his ankle. Taeyong sank down, poking into the mushy feathers with the umbrella pole. 

“Hey, help me with this one —I think it’s a bit caught in the ground.”

He grips the other side of the stone and when they flip it up, baby spiders scatter along the damp soil. Millipedes curl and weevils dart off to darker places. 

“They look like pizza toppings.”

“...You mean the black circle things?”

“Yeah, olives,” Jaehyun nods. They haul the rock back to their rising tower. “-forgot what they were called for a second.”

He couldn’t take the heron home. With nothing to carry it in, the heron would just slide to pieces if Taeyong dragged it back. 

So Taeyong left it there. A week later, he came back. 

All the feathers had shriveled and twisted, exposing a reedy carcass beneath. Pill bugs weaved in and out the gaps like tiny electric cars. The beak shone yellow and robust. Taeyong picked it up, brushing off the wet dirt. Perfect.

Under the light of his desk lamp, he cleaned the eye sockets with an acrylic brush, then coated the entire thing with a thin layer of resin. Slid it into his backpack when it dried. 

He almost forgot about it until he’s on the bus one day and someone crashes onto the seat next to him. The hard edge of their bag digs into his hip and Taeyong briefly thinks about digging the beak into theirs. He looks over, then looks down. It’s just a kid —younger than him, face planted into his bag handle, trying to sleep.

He turns back to the window, watching the road blur, feeling a—

“Careful!”

Taeyong reels, the rock swinging him sideways. Jaehyun grasps his sleeve, but his hand slips and then the other fumbles, the rock falling, grabbing his shirt edge, rolling them both onto the gravel. 

All they hear is the river for a while. Then Jaehyun starts laughing.

A rustle, then a bunch of maple seeds drop into his mouth. Taeyong starts laughing too.

He’s spitting out the reedy things as Taeyong smacks the grit off his back. A red-violet patch appears where Jaehyun skinned his elbow. He touches the spot, then the other winces, turning. Twists his arm up.

“Shit. Great,” He crawls to the river, slapping water over the raw skin. “-better not get infected, swear to God...”

“Spit on it.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

Jaehyun turns, waiting for him to stop looking at him. He hasn’t spit on a scrape since he was seven.

(~)

“Jeez, you’ve got all this shit in your hair…” He peels off patches of sand stuck on Taeyong’s scalp, sighing. “-is your head a dirt magnet...?”

They sit cross-legged inside their makeshift fort. A roof of tangled marsh stalks balance on a half-ring of rocks, about four feet tall. Every time an ant runs across a stalk, Jaehyun gets goosebumps.

Taeyong rubs the back of his head, flicking more grains off. 

“Actually, it happened a lot. Got sand in my hair all the time.”

“Yeah? Because?”

“I liked sticking my head down —tryna look upside down in the playground.” 

“Why’re you so stupid…” Jaehyun chuckles with half-pity. “-what did you think you were gonna see upside down? Flying trolls?”

“Who knows?” He shrugs, laughing a little too. “-back then I didn’t need reasons for things.”

(~)

The next day, they decided to take down the marsh roof and mat the ground instead. Lying down, Jaehyun can still feel the gravel in his back, legs sticking out the fort’s entrance. Taeyong rests his ankles over the stacked rocks, shoes off. A fog turned the sky into a blank, glowing sheet, edged in trees. 

When a caterpillar gets onto his sock, he flicks his foot and nearly whips the thing into Jae’s ear. 

“You’re getting terribly creative at trying to kill me…” He picked up the soft grub, setting it outside their shelter. “-how much are they paying you?”

Taeyong turns to him, grinning, shoving his shoulder. 

“Enough. Just enough for my current stay.”

“Clean. I like it.”

They’re quiet for a while. 

“But seriously,” Taeyong turns back to him. It was early evening. “-when _ was _the last time you built a fort?”

“Last time? Hmm...” He brushes off the sand that’s settled around his neck. “-must be a long time... Maybe second, third grade? Yeah. We had this huge soccer field. In winter, we’d all rush there at recess and basically strip the snow bare for our little castles.” 

“Oh, you guys did that too?”

“Hey, I too was a kid once,” He rolls his eyes, maybe a bit pointedly. “-and uh,” Laughs. “-I remember I got up at 7 am once and reached the field when it was still empty. Spent half an hour rolling a giant snowball from the opposite end to our fort —just to get caught at recess by the kid who made it.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, he was all like ‘I can tell it’s mine ‘cuz there’s a boot mark right there where I kicked it’,” Makes his voice all whiny-sounding, wagging his head. “-so I had to do the Roll of Shame back to his fort.”

“How shit was your fort?” Taeyong laughs. “-for you go that far for a—

“-Our walls were barely two inches tall. You couldn’t even see it from the tarmac. I even made a map of the field—

“-To figure out which fort to _lay_ _siege_ on nex—

Flicks a piece of grass onto Taeyong’s cackling face. “-sheesh, I never even thought that far. I just remember there was this one annoying girl in a nearby fort who had gigantic lips —so I named their fort Fishface.”

He’s laughing even harder now, getting sand in his mouth, so he’s laughing and spitting and gasping all at once.

When Taeyong caught his breath again, he manages:

“You made a map just so you could shittalk the forts. On paper.”

“I’m real fun at parties, can you tell?” 

“Stage one of hot nerd development,” He affirms, shielding himself from a spray of gravel. Most of it gets into his shirt. “-works for me.”

And then they’re tearing up the floor —getting grass and sand and dirt everywhere —until Jaehyun knocks his head against a rock, waving his hand out in surrender. He’s laughing despite the line of blood curling down his neck. 

Taeyong wipes it with his thumb. He stares at it, a little dazed.

The other takes his hand and guides Taeyong thumb along his cheek, drawing a crooked happy face. 

He touches the dried marks.

“Is this a confession?”

Jaehyun grins obliquely.

“You like it?”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ll be gone for a month, see y’all in mid-june-julyish haha
> 
> stay warm :3


	13. the star

“I don’t get it. What’s the point of all this?”

Jaehyun chuckles at the adolescent slumped in the chair, cheek pressed against the fourth page of Macbeth. He scratches at the printed drawing of the three witches, their gnarled hands grasping the air with delight.

“Well, that depends. What do you want from this? What do you want to know?”

“Why people do this. Why do we spend so much time on these things that aren’t even real? I mean, like, what about our actual problems?”

“Actual problems?”

Kevin sighs, pushing the book away. It tips over a container of ballpoints, pencil crayons and highlighters. He swears as he blocks them from rolling off with his elbows, a miniature traffic jam. Jaehyun helps him drop them back in, bunch by bunch. He combs through the scattered pencil shavings, sweeping them to one side. Tosses them in the wastebasket under the table. 

He drops in some eraser chunks, frowning at their stickiness. 

“Yeah, like the big ass mess this stupid ass book just made,” Kevin said, glaring at its spine. “-and isn’t it bad for the environment too? Printing this shit over and over again, killing all those trees.”

“The world’s not gonna go extinct because of books, Kevin. It’s not so simple.”

“Then what?”

“Then what?” Jaehyun repeats, amused.

“How’s the world gonna die?”

He pauses, genuinely trying to picture it. He gives Kevin his best thinking face.

“That’s a good question. I don’t know. But you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you don’t need to worry about that,” He smiles, a bit sad. “-I think the world will be here long after you and I both die. I think it will be here for a while.”

“But what about the future?”

Jaehyun frowns. 

“What do you mean?”

“Mom used to say that crap all the time. Whenever I ask her what the point of doing something is —whatever it is —she just says _ it’s for your future. _What future? What kind of future involves—” He cuts himself off, groaning. He rests his chin on his hands, staring out the window. “-I just don’t get it —so I’m doing all this stuff for a later time —but what happens when that later time comes and all this stuff I’ve done is still useless?”

“Why would it be useless?”

“What if I change my mind? What if I spend years doing one thing, but then later I decide to do something else? Then I have to start all over again.”

“Yeah. Maybe you will.”

The adolescent squints at his patient, almost entertained expression.

“You’re just grinning because you’ve been through it already,” He mutters. “-you’ve got it all figured out.”

Jaehyun snorts, making the other even more irritated. He takes a pencil from the container, blinking when it droops at his touch. It was one of the bendy ones.

“Now that’s where you have it wrong. Actually, I don’t have it all figured out. Really. Look, it’s like this—” He twists the pencil so it curved up and down like road bumps. “-sometimes it gets easier —and you go up a little so you can see a little bit further into the distance. But then usually something happens and you slide down and then you can’t see much —actually you can’t see anything beyond your own problems.”

“But then it goes up again.”

“Yeah. You gotta try really hard to climb back out of that pit that you fell into and then you can see a bit further again.”

“What happens when the road stops changing?”

“When the road stops changing?” 

“So you just keep walking and walking and walking as if you’re following some kind of distant star,” Kevin said, still staring out the window. A kite had caught into a naked tree, its tail waving weakly in the wind. “-and you never fall down, but you never get any closer.”

(~)

  
When it really starts coming down, Taeyong drags him under an abandoned tarp someone strung over a yellowed birch. Rain renders the marsh to muggy camo. He’s lost track of how many weeks it’s been. _Has it been two months already?_ Yet he feels no closer. No closer than that first night. He eyes the line of blood along Jaehyun’s neck. _ How does nature do it? _Looking so planned, so carefully executed —yet it was just the way blood slid down his skin. Chaotic, perfect.

More perfect than any Pollock splatter. 

Then just like that, no more. Jaehyun rubbed off the blood with a damp palm, not even looking at him. Just grits remain. 

Taeyong waits for words to break the air. Nothing. Must be something in the rain, something about it just makes him close up. Or maybe it’s the day. _ An ironic anniversary for some sort of pain. _

He watches Jaehyun stare into the blurred river and realizes maybe it’ll always be like this. He could lie to himself and believe that years didn’t mean anything. But they did. Years carried a tumbled chest of misplaced things. 

Where was he when Jaehyun was seven, for instance? 

Floating somewhere in the mist between death and conception? Where were you when you were nobody? When you weren’t _ you _ yet? 

Did you start in the ground, did you start up there? Somebody would probably tell him _ —both places, you idiot_, but that’s not what he’s really asking. At some point, he really was just an idea.

While he was an idea mingling with the morning air, Jaehyun had probably knelt down in the grass, scooping ladybugs from a crumbled muffin. He would’ve watched those shiny red things crawl around his seven year old palms, feeling it tickle. Maybe he would’ve crushed one by accident.

_ This is so bizarre_, he thinks to himself, wondering what someone did before you existed. He could just ask. But make-believe was always more fun, right?

He gets a knotted feeling in his gut, the kind that made his toes curl. 

_ Let’s make-believe a bit more, shall we…? _Taeyong turns, taking a good, long look at him, his neck, his jaw, his face. He tries to break it down into a series of steps. 

  1. He draws you in. He grasps your wrists, gently making his way up your arms. By the time he reaches your shoulders, you’re just inches away.
  2. He stumbles back, pulling you along. He needs something solid, and so do you, so he backs until his back hits a wall, a mirror, the dresser, the shower tile, the bed. He winces.
  3. Or —maybe you take the lead, he lets you, he likes to be pulled just as much as he likes to tug —and he lets you steer him into that dresser. _Bang. _His head hits the wood frame, the handle digs against his ass.
  4. He likes pain. Look at him. You curl your fingers over his belt buckle, and jerk him to you and he crumples, knees buckling, and he slumps down, staring up at you, dazed. 
  5. You pry his mouth open with the muzzle of your gun. He’s terrified, he’s shaking, he’s so turned on. You watch his throat swell and shrink, veins tight.
  6. Hands and knees, he backs onto the bed, trembling as you graze that gun down the side of his face, down his neck, down his chest. 
  7. His legs are useless, he’s numb from the groin down. You’re drunk on it, all of this, all of this that he surrenders to you. As long as the gun connects with his body, you call the shots. You’re in control.

You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re in control. You’re 

“We should head back. I think—”

Taeyong startles at the sound of his voice. Out of wash, out of existence, he’s back on the tangible side, his surroundings spinning, blinded by the light dancing on the leaves. Some of the sun broke through the clouds, it rained still. It’s dazzling —the way the light makes the shower sparkle.

“—the rain’s thinned out enough now,” Jaehyun looks at him. It’s dizzying. His features seem to shift, double, triple exposure. “-you...alright over there? Did I say something?”

“What...? What did you say?”

“I said the rain’s—

And then Taeyong’s back sinks into the wet bark, the tarp rattles against their shoulders, crumbling, and even beneath his eyelids, it’s blue, blue, blue. He feels the grits of blood in his fingers, against the other’s neck, sighing. Jaehyun’s mouth is rigid, he makes a gurgled noise, struggling to wrench his face away. He pushes at his shoulders, but the other resists, clinging tighter.

He tore Taeyong’s hands off, glaring at him, staggering back. 

“I —I’m sorry, I-

He froze, seeing tears in his eyes. Jaehyun wipes at his nose, looking away. His throat feels numb. It hurts to breathe. 

When Taeyong grasps his wrist, gently, the other presses both hands over his face, knuckles digging into his eyelids, sobbing.

(~)

As Jaehyun walked out of the house for the third week, he saw her curving to the driveway. She stopped by his car and leaned her bicycle along the tree. 

“I came to see how you’re doing,” Bits of hair stuck to her neck, he smelled Tre-Semme shampoo. The outline of her bra shows through her shirt. “-are you done for the day?”

“Yeah,” He said quickly. He looked back at the house. “-you?”

“I got a shift in a couple hours. Thought it’d be nice to take a break.”

They found an empty playground by a church. She went over to the splash pad, sitting on a giant plastic frog. Jaehyun leaned on its folded leg. 

It was cold for spring. The frog’s spout stayed dry.

“Is she paying you enough?” She continued when he looked uncomfortable. “-you can be honest —I know Syd likes cutting corners when she can.”

“It’s fine. Really —I think she’s paying more than what’s necessary —for what I’m doing.”

“What do you mean?” She frowned. “-what are you doing?”

“Kevin hardly comes down for the lessons, actually,” He confessed. The distant soccer post has been tipped into the grass. “-so most of the time we just talk, me and her. About things.” 

He made a sound that’s almost laughter. He had been right about some things. But she surprised him sometimes. 

“You guys just talk about stuff?”

She hid it as well as any twentysomething could. Which is not that well at all. 

“Nothing too crazy,” He laughed a little. “-but you know about her husband, right? He went overseas...and he’s just sort of gone now. No calls, no nothing.”

“He must be seeing someone,” She said. “-someone younger. They always go younger.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Maybe he’s seeing more than one woman. Maybe it isn’t even a woman.”

“Now you’re just making up stories in your head,” Jaehyun sighed. The plastic knee was staring to hurt his bum. “-you shouldn’t be so immature.”

“What do _ you _ think he’s doing?”

“I don’t know —I don’t care. It’s outside of my concern.”

“Are you only talking to her?”

Jaehyun looked at her, mildly ill. 

“I think that’s outside of_ your _ concern,” His voice shook. Then he added, brow furrowed. “-and do you really think you should be asking me these things just because we’re outside school grounds?”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with answering.”

“Well, then I’ll make it clear if I haven’t before —what Sydney and I talk about in that house is none of your business —regardless of—

“-You just told me about her husband —what else is there to hide from me?” 

“What’s your deal, huh?” Jaehyun got up, making the plastic rattle. “-are you seriously...?” 

“Oh, you think I’m jealous,” She grins. “-that’s original. Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?” 

Her smile's so wide, it split her face in half. A bloody stick replaced her head, now shattered on the tarmac. 

He blinked. 

Hyojeong looks back at him, confused.

“Wh-what’s going on —y-you just suddenly…”

She gets up, slowly stepping away from him.

“Y-You were just s-staring at...is everything okay?”

“Um, uh, I…” Jaehyun flushes. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t know what it meant. “-I...—sorry, wh-what were we…?”

“You...You were saying how Kevin and you were both going through his geography essay on renewable energy...and then you just…”

“Oh. Okay. Well,” He gets up too, the edges of his feet numb. Looks over towards his car by the houses. “-actually, I think I might stop this tutor thing. Kevin’s getting pretty good...and with Sydney’s husband situation —I don’t think it’s a good…”

  
  
They’re quiet for a while.

“Well, I think that’s outside your control,” She sighs, glancing at the sky. They start heading back, avoiding the muddier patches of grass. “-I mean, it’s not like he’s coming back any time soon.”

“You think he’ll come back? Eventually?”

“In what way?”

“In a coming home way,” He chuckles a little. 

“I don’t believe in that stuff,” She mutters, scraping her soles against the curb. “-how does anyone buy into it, anyway?”

“Marriage?”

“That too, I guess.” 

When Jaehyun gets into his car, Hyojeong stays by the window, ducking down. 

“Maybe you don’t have to quit,” She said. “-but you could take a break for a while. Syd probably still needs time to...figure things out. She’s been better these past few months, but…”

“But?”

“She still thinks about it. She phones me at 2 am sometimes —I can’t understand anything ‘cause of all the crying...helps to let it out though, maybe.”

“Yeah. I think you’re right.”

“Hey,” She clutches his half-drawn windshield. “-be careful going back.”

“For sure. Yeah,” He looks down, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “-thanks.”

(~)

“So...do you only do the zero one?” 

“Zero one?” 

Taeyong draped the stolen tarp over both their heads, the scratchy material knocking noisily against the back of their legs. Most of it slides along the path like a lousy bridal train, picking up dirt, leaves and other trash. He could see headlights flash by, they were nearing the edge of the forest. Jaehyun kept his eyes to the ground. He shrank somewhat away, even avoiding brushing their shoulders together. 

It wasn’t raining as hard as before, but they didn’t know when it might suddenly crash down again. Better safe than sorry.

“The thing you did in the lobby some nights ago —she has other pieces,” Jaehyun replied, sniffling. “-have you also done those...or?”

“Oh, thaat, right,” He nods. “-actually, I think I did do some other ones...there was one where you have to light this giant hollow wooden star on fire and then jump into the centre of it?”

"Oh, okay. That's cool."

"Yeah."

Jaehyun turns to him, almost saying something. But he waits too long and the moment is gone. He rubs his eye with the back of his hand. They trudge in silence for a while. 

“...You want to try it again?”

“Okay…” Taeyong chuckles, stopping and looking before they cross. It took him a second to realize what he was talking about. “-why not?”

(~)

They haul the chairs and tables to the edge of the back courtyard by the shriveled tomato stalks. Taeyong wipes off a rake leaning in the dirt and clears the leaves onto the grass. Jaehyun tosses a broken frisbee over the gate. 

The tiles were mostly even. Now they gathered all the fallen sticks, twigs and scraps they could find, forming a mostly symmetrical star. The corners just touched the tile edge. 

Taeyong sank down by a corner and flicked his lighter over the loose pile. He flicks it several times. He cups his hands over the pile, blowing on it, flicking the lighter again. 

Eventually a thin wisp of smoke rose into the air. Then nothing. 

“Shit —I’m so stupid,” He grits. “-the wood’s all wet ‘cause of the rain.”

Jaehyun watches him, his mouth parted. Then it clicked for him too, and he started laughing. Something about Taeyong’s crouching position is also inexplicably hilarious and he’s still grinning as he drags a couple chairs over into the star.

“We look like we’re trying to summon something,” Taeyong snorts, as rain starts prickling his nose again. “-like the fuck…”

“It’s not all bad,” The other shrugs, admiring their grubby cinque. His eyes still stung. “-didn’t she pass out after the fire got too strong? With all the smoke.”

“Yeah. I think she did, actually. Hey, you actually remember a lot of stuff about this Abramovic lady, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun chuckles. He picks out a dead leaf from Tae’s hair. It’s coarser than he thought it’d be. Like straw. “-I used to tutor a student for a while, and she told me about her. Actually, she heard about Abramovic from her dad. He read about Rhythm 0 in the news somewhere.”

“It happened ages ago, though. How did it suddenly come up again?”

“I think some idiot tried it in a high school cafeteria.”

_ Nearly died, probably. _He shook his head. The world was going crazy. 

“There’s something so alluring about it, yeah? Death, that is.”

Jaehyun watches the brush beat against the gate as the wind picked up. Scattered rings of leaves and plastic flew around the tables, throwing sand in their direction. He thought about Sydney’s house. His old house. 

He looks down. Taeyong rests his head on his lap, the faintest grin in his eyes. He lets him stay there, somehow. 

He took Jaehyun’s hand and set it over his hair again. He digs around in his pocket and pulls out a couple cheap elastics, looping them into his fingers. 

“Go on,” He nudged, tapping Jae’s knuckle. “-make something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...saw the midnight meat train yesterday, i think you can pinpoint where it left its tracks haha


	14. the demon

Nervously laughing, Jaehyun rests on the edge of the bathroom sink, hands gripping the rim. They had a couple drinks and now he felt freer, lighter. Washier. Taeyong sports the onion-sprout he managed to make earlier —donned it the whole time at the counter, ignoring the stares —his bangs and sides all gathered up. It’s ridiculous. He loves it. 

“Go slowly,” His voice shakes a little. “-I can’t promise I won’t move, but if you don’t make it too crazy, I can probably…”

His head bangs into the mirror as Taeyong grasps the base of his throat gently, marker in his mouth. He pops off the lid with his teeth. 

“It w-washes off, right? I don’t know if I want t—

“Oh, my God, it’s _ Crayola_…” The younger rolls his eyes, groaning. “-don’t be such a baby —okay, look,” He swipes a line over his wrist, then splashes some water over it. Rubs until it’s just a faint grey patch. “-see? Good as new.”

“There’s still…”

“I’ll use _ soap _ on you, okay? Your neck’s gonna be whiter than it was before I drew on it...Now stay like this, hold still. Two minutes.”

Jaehyun feels his throat inadvertently wobble —rising and dipping with the trail of the tip. The marker felt cool against his skin, strangely soothing, yet alien. He hated that he couldn’t see it. He tried picturing what Taeyong was drawing. It felt like he was making progressively smaller marks towards the center of his neck —a maze of some kind?

He shut his eyes, swallowing. _ Imagine how painful it would be if it was a real needle. _But it’s just Taeyong and a fine-tip. The marker was cold, but his hand was warm. His fingers felt bony and dry. It felt nice, somehow. The smell of dispenser soap merged with the sourness of wet pigment. 

Then the cool marker leaves his skin and Jaehyun feels a rush of wind, then a chemical sweetness and hair oil. He opens his eyes. 

Back facing him, Taeyong peels off his shirt, tossing it over the stall door. His delts flex when he reaches beyond his neck. He pauses. The scabs were already peeling off. He resorts to scratching around them. 

Jaehyun notices a tiny line of text behind both of his arms. 

“Sorry, it was sticking to my pits and getting annoying,” Taeyong returns, looking down at his dampened skinnies. “-I’ll deal with this later —here, close your eyes, just relax, okay?” 

He grips Jaehyun’s jaw this time, tilting his face up to smooth his canvas. When the marker swipes to the side of his neck, Jae shrinks, choking back his laugh when he hears Taeyong grimace.

“Jeez, now you made it crooked…” A damp thumb rubs at the ruined spot. “-nothing a little water can’t fix.”

Something’s odd about this water. He never heard the tap switch on. 

“...Is that really water?”

Silence. 

“Sure is, Capitaine,” The grin in his voice is insidious. “-want some more?” 

“Hmm,” But what if he decided to have some fun? “-okay. ”

In a second, he feels Taeyong’s breath on his mouth, their noses nearly touching. But he just hangs there, then tilts his head up, nipping his nose. 

Taeyong giggles, poking the spot he bit. “_-boop_. Pew-pew.” 

The other slumps his head sideways, pretending to be dead. Taeyong plays along, reading his pulse, craning his head down, even pressing his ear to his neck. 

He laughs. Then he starts drawing again. 

Breath tickles his collarbone and he realizes Taeyong’s leaned in to fill out the finer details, hair brushing his chin. Jaehyun peers through his lashes, watching how he worked. 

The guy stuck out his bottom lip slightly as he squinted. Then as he leaned in still closer, the tip of his tongue flashed for a second. It’s instinctive. Taeyong probably didn’t even realize it himself. Just a concentration quirk. 

His pupils dilated, hyper focused, his mouth parted in a peculiar almost-smile. 

“Okay. Turn around.” 

He turns. A four-eyed demon grins back, the tattered edges of its face snaking out to his nape. Robust fangs bear over its shrunken chin, the tongue stuck under gnashing teeth. Muscled and furrowed, the face resembled a human heart. 

“God.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s incredible.”

(~)

Breaking the lock with a rusted forceps, Taeyong pulls him into the change room, giggling, finger to his lips. It’s 2 am. No one’s inside. A couple towels hung on the hooks, some goggles, a Cola key strap. Someone forgot their Spiderman water bottle. 

Taeyong strips to his underwear, tossing his clothes onto the bench. 

Ignoring his snickering, Jaehyun hunches in the corner, back facing him as he stepped out of his pants, undid his shirt and set both into a neat stack beside the other’s pile. 

“It’s like you’re stripping for a job interview.”

“Shush it, you.”

“Thank God you’re hot…” He sighs, dragging them both to the showers. “-now let me get my hands in that hair.”

When they reach the pool, Taeyong picks his way to the deep end, feet slapping against the tile, the other in tow. Without a second thought, he jumps in, water exploding around him like fireworks. 

He gasps, laughing, looking up at Jaehyun, treading his arms and legs to stay afloat. The shock turns his voice all high and breathy. 

“Come on! Water’s perfect!”

“Yeah, totally.”

“You just needa get used to it…!”

“Like you right now?”

“Come on!” Splashes water at his ankles. “-stop being a pussy.”

“Manners, manners, hotshot,” He slid down, calves in the water. Kicked some into his face. “-I’ll take my time, thanks.”

When he can’t take any more of Taeyong’s whining, he slips into the pool, gliding over to churn his legs into his, attempting to sink him. They fight for several seconds, Taeyong whipping water up his nose, trying to knee him in the groin as Jaehyun smirks, ducking under to grab his ankles. 

His lung capacity’s insane —and he’s lithe —Taeyong struggles to grasp a shoulder, thigh, neck, anything to slow him down. 

Finally, Taeyong is spent, gripping the pool’s edge, panting. The other plants both his elbows over the ledge, chuckling. 

“Still want to challenge me?”

“Oh, it’s fucking _ on. _”

And then they’re at it again, violent splashing and shouting and laughing, but this time when they’ve both gone under, they grasp tight onto each other, kissing.

(~)

He’s lulled by the tapping of rain against the ceiling. Blue and grey shadows shift over the walls, bars of light slant across the bookcase. His head pounds. The window is open. Jaehyun can feel the wind over his neck.

He turns his face, pressing his cheek further into the softness. A hand sifts through his hair. His mouth feels like frayed yarn. _ Slept well? _

Jaehyun looks up. He realizes he fell asleep on her lap. 

He’s too bleary to panic. 

Slowly, he realizes she’s removing his clothes. Notch by notch, she unfastens the buttons, pushing down his sleeves, dragging the shirt off from under his back. He can’t move his arms. 

She starts on his belt and he gasps. He’s never felt this hungover in his life. His ankles feel disconnected, burning cold. 

She drags down his pants.

“Please,” Jaehyun mumbles, his eyes unable to focus. She looks like a handful of lights and holes. His throat hurts. “-please...don’t.”

When her hair brushes his abdomen, he looks away. A painting on the wall shows a white horse, the knees crushed and bleeding. A mob surrounds it, several with daggers, sickles raised. He doesn’t recognize the painting.

_ That’s a Goya. _

Her voice sounds filtered, far away. He can’t tell if it’s her hand or her mouth.

_ My brother’s crazy about Goya. He’s got all the postcards. _

Maybe it’s her first time. She’s not very good. Jaehyun stares at the dying horse, now noticing the men slain nearby. They curled like overripe fruit on the ground.

He stares at the taut jaw of a soldier in the painting. He gasps.

(~)

Sometime later, Jaehyun registers the firmer, colder cushion under his cheek. It smells like wet socks and newspapers. He gains a sense of motion, dizzy. Someone’s clipped all three seatbelts over him. 

He sees a high forehead and large, hooded eyes peering through the rearview. Clumps of green dye clung to his bangs.

“Hope you don’t mind —I went through your wallet,” The guy said, eyeing the road. “-had to find your address, and your phone was locked.”

Jaehyun turns away, facing the seat. He wanted to vomit.

“We’re almost there. Is your wife home?”

His voice comes out as a faint croak. 

“I...don’t _ know_…” 

“Shit. Okay, we’ll have to come up with something —uh, okay, how ‘bout, you were staying late marking at the university —and you ran into an old friend and decided to go over for drinks, lost track of time…”

“She...doesn’t _know_ about...the _university_…”

“Okay, scrap the school —just the old friend, drinks, stayed late?”

“Sure…”

Jaehyun rolls onto his back again, staring out the window. It’s early evening. The sky fades from soft orange to violet, trees sweep by, bare and dark. Lamps have turned on, they pass by a stop sign. Children play in the distance. 

The guy at the wheel doesn’t talk again. 

(~)

Jaehyun comes to —coughing, spitting water onto the tile. His back is cold, he feels grits and hair clinging to his skin. Dead fluorescent panels spanned overhead, the generator echoing. Chlorine burns his sinuses.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah…” He slowly pulls himself up, pressing his head. “-was...was I?”

“We must’ve stayed down too long,” Taeyong chuckles, wiping droplets off his nose. “-I think we made out for almost four minutes…”

“Fuck…”

“Way ahead of ya.” 

They just slung their dry clothes over their backs on the elevator, pressed shoulder to shoulder, eyes hurting from the light. Jaehyun sighs. All that’s left on his neck are bits and shards of witchcraft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just when i thought i had this all figured out, my brain decided to do a “surprise, bitch” and now we on a whole new direction...ahh
> 
> …
> 
> btw here’s a rundown of the oc characters so far, if it’s gotten kinda confusing:
> 
> seorin: jh’s ex-wife. divorced him after he revealed he was having an affair.
> 
> hyojeong: an art student jh temporarily supervised at a university after his colleague went on a few months vacation leave. although jh does not have feelings for her, he finds they are compatible intellectually. 
> 
> sydney: hyojeong’s relative. jh began tutoring her son kevin after hyojeong suggested it at an earlier office meeting (for extra money). he stops tutoring after finding out syd’s husband recently died in a car accident, worried about her emotional state. 
> 
> ...see u in the next one!


	15. the blood

He’s kissing down the back of Jaehyun’s neck as the other works the door open. Taeyong presses his face into the small of his back, inhaling. His lips sting from the mix of sweat and chlorine and nothing has ever burned this sweet. He just wants to sink into Jaehyun’s skin, burrow underneath like a cancer and merge with his blood vessels. Just live inside him forever. 

How can a person smell this mind blowingly _ good _ —he thinks he’ll tear his face off if he doesn’t get his mouth on his, then south, way south. Even his nails are buzzing. Taeyong’s never taken it against a glass sliding door, or any vertical for that matter, but right now, God, he’d let Jaehyun do anything to him. He’s ready to limp for a week. 

He nips the edge of Jaehyun’s ear, gripping his chest from behind, grinning at how hot his skin has become. The door gives way, reeling them into the coat hangers, rattling over them. Taeyong hits his head against the wall, sliding down, gasping when the other slides his hands up his cold stomach. His scars buzz, the wet clothes just barely shielding his back. Jaehyun grazes his nose down his face, sighing. He kisses up his throat, making a strangled noise when Taeyong gets onto his lap. Tongue and teeth crash until saliva runs down their jaws and Jaehyun breaks off, shaking. His gums are bleeding. He looks away, looking like he wanted to cry. 

Taeyong catches his chin. He leans in and licks off the blood over his teeth, kissing him again. _ It’s okay, hey, it’s okay. _ He mouths, not knowing if the other can feel it. _ It’s okay_. 

Stringing his fingers into Jaehyun’s hair, Taeyong drags him closer, crossing his ankles around his waist. Hisses for him to get them somewhere. The metal barrier by the closet floor digs into his shins and he’s getting cold.

“Hey, come on —one, two…”

He’s heavier than he realizes. Jaehyun grimaces, his legs not even working the first few times, then he makes it halfway up before his quads falter, grip slipping on the sliding closet. His ass crashes back onto the carpet, Taeyong crashing onto his groin in the worst way. 

“Christ…” He winces. “-right on my tailbone…”

“Should I carry you?” Taeyong breathes against his temple. “-are you annihilated from the waist down?”

“I think I can army crawl. What about you...?”

“Come on,” He got off him, gesturing to his back. Jaehyun hesitates, staring at his gleaming shoulder blades. “-lemme get you there.”

His skin is warm, softer than he imagined. Jaehyun feels the delicate rails of his spine mold into his chest, even his bones are warm. He was stronger than he looked. He closed his eyes. Pressing his chin against Taeyong’s shoulder felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

When his back sinks against the sheets, Taeyong’s hair sinks against his face. It tickles his jaw, his teeth knock into scalp. They’re laughing, then Taeyong rolls around, draped all over him, kissing him so nice, so slow. He could burst from lack of air, his chest hurt with such satisfying pain. It’s madness.

Then Taeyong drags his mouth down his stomach, feeling the other’s legs jerk underneath as he traces his hip bone with his tongue.

“Any last words?” 

He’s tugged his boxers half off with his teeth.

“You don’t have to swallow.”

(~)

“You know you look so good like that?”

“Yeah?” Taeyong manages. He claws his way back up, letting the other lick off the white on his chest, his chin. Winces. “-come on, I’m not against teeth.”

“I’ll get carried away. I’ll rip you right open.”

His throat catches. It burns.

“Is this how you fuck? With your vernacular?”

“Aren’t you blessed I have more than one?” Jaehyun grips his thighs, yanking him in closer. God, he looks like a dream perched on top of him like that. All dilated eyes, ravaged hair and sweat-shimmering shoulders. Purple marks all over his chest. So gorgeous, it’s insane. “-how good are you? Right now.”

“Pretty locked up. I needa while. Maybe nerves?”

“That’s okay. I can be patient,” Jaehyun said, eyeing the hickeys on his hip. He lets Taeyong shove two fingers into his mouth —fuck, they’re so long he might choke, his tongue grazing between the gap. Taeyong shivers. He hasn’t been this sensitive in a while. The feeling goes straight to his groin. 

Jaehyun spits into his palm. 

“Here, let me help you with that.”

He’s too straightforward. Taeyong bit his fist, holding it in. 

(~)

“Watch her hands. See how she holds down one side, her brother holds down the other.”

Taeyong leaned closer to the laptop screen balanced on a mossy rock. Even at 360 pixels, he saw the motion clearly —clean and quick —the milky purple of the squirrel’s flesh exposed after its skin is peeled apart. It sounds like an old zipper. 

He looks at their newly killed candidate on the sunken picnic table. He’s fourteen. He’s never even cleaned a chicken from the grocery store. 

“Are we really gonna do this?” The hand holding the heron’s beak stings from the ridges. “-do we have to?”

“No, we don’t, but I want you to learn,” She sighs, tying her hair tight behind her, pushing up her sleeves. “-I can see the bruises you try to hide on your stomach and legs when you shower.”

Taeyong looks away. The corners of his eyes burn. 

“I just get into fights a lot. They don’t like me here.”

“And that’s fine. You can fight all you want —but you’re not winning.”

“So?”

“So you need to try something else.”

She gestures to the squirrel’s legs and Taeyong holds them down. Making a shallow incision across the belly, she gets her fingers under the skin, directing him to do the same. They pull. The fur is stubborn, clinging onto the layer of fat over the muscle, barely coming off the limbs. 

“Now reach in there. Right by the trachea and esophagus.”

He hesitates. For a split second, he sees the shiny organs moving. But it has to be a trick of the light. The rodent has been dead for several minutes. Any movement is just from the wind. 

He’s glad it’s cold. Mid-November, he barely smells the hosey innards. He barely feels sick at all. 

“I don’t want to touch it. Wh-what if I pop something?”

“You can be gentle. Just dig your fingers in there, behind the tubes and pull down. You’ll get it all out —it’s just one motion.”

He looks at the squirrel again. It still had its face, slumped to the side. Light sparkled over its brown-grey cheek, eyes closed. It looked mild, like it was just suntanning. It would be painless. For the animal, at least.

Taeyong inches his fingers under its throat tubes as his sister severed them from the head. He pulls down, scraps of fat getting caught in his nails, tilting his face away in case anything sprayed. When he gets to the guts, they’re still warm. Goosebumps shock his arm and he almost lets go. 

He tosses the innards into the river. 

She empties a water bottle over his hands as he scrubs hard at his fingertips. They forgot to bring soap and he needs to rid himself of the smell. Now he can really smell it. Blood, saliva and yellow, greyish green fluids he couldn’t identify. 

He’s afraid he’ll never get it off his nails and when he showers his hair’ll smell like game forever.

As his sister bags the stripped whole into a jumbo Ziploc, she calls him again. Taeyong tosses another stone before going over.

“Beneath our skin, we look like this too,” She said. “-those kids who hurt you, on the inside, they just look like this. I want you to let them know that.”

“Okay.”

The next week, Taeyong gets suspended for three days. (Any longer and his guidance counselor feared he wouldn’t catch up.) By 4 pm, his friend noticed a strange fluid leaking from his locker. When he swung it open, he screamed. 

He didn’t even get a proper glimpse of the reddish purple twist of flesh bleeding into his failed tests and chip bags on the metal floor. Even the custodian couldn’t tell what it was. The geography teacher identified it. He used to go hunting with his father. They’d lived near the mountains.

But it was the note that really hammered it home. 

Taped to the second shelf, speckled with blood, it read:

_ You will look like this if you ever screw with me again. _

(~)

When Taeyong returned, no one in class talked to him. They gave him a wide berth in the hallways, in the washroom the boys stayed at least three urinals away. Nobody could make eye contact with him without shaking. Even teachers avoided brushing hands with him when he handed in homework.

His friend couldn’t have meat for weeks. He couldn’t even look at the flyers. He ate lunch on the toilet. Taeyong recognized his sneakers under the gap.

The rumours began in a matter of days. Sure, Taeyong had an entire table to himself in the cafeteria now, but somehow it felt almost suffocating. He saw the truth scrawled behind the stalls. _ Fucking creep. Animal abuser. Disgusting. He should just strip his own skin off. Who wants something like that alive? _

_ I bet his sister eats human flesh. _

Taeyong threw his bag on the ground when he got home, leaping onto the couch. He screamed into the pillow and cried. He held his breath for as long as he could, when he let it out, his heart pounded in his throat. He fell asleep, his nose still half-clogged.

When he woke, his sister had turned on the television. Taeyong looks at her through bleary eyes, unsure of how to feel. She smooths his damp hair, spooning him a glob of lukewarm carton mac and cheese. Some dribbles onto his chest. 

“So nobody fights me anymore,” He picks off the cheese, eating it. “-they’re too scared now, I guess.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“They fucking hate me. I think they hate me now, even more than they used to.”

They sat in silence, watching the glow of Charlie Chaplin as he sprawled on a table, kicking up a giant balloon in the shape of the Earth. He looked happier than ever. He had the world on their knees.

(~)

It’s so good, he can’t even move his legs after. Taeyong stares at the soiled sheets, pink where his nosebleed got mixed in, thin yellow when he didn’t have much to blow anymore. It’s incredible. He feels wrenched dry. Empty.

He needed this. 

Jaehyun had gotten scared when he started crying midway through his third orgasm. After his seventh, he barely registered the feeling. He barely registered anything. His vision blurred out. He couldn’t stop sobbing.

But he didn’t let Jaehyun stop. _ Don’t stop, don’t stop —don’t you dare stop. _Then his words became a jumble, indecipherable_. _

The other lay next to him, silent. He breathes in the stink of the fabric and just looks at the ceiling.   
  


  
“Why? Why didn’t you make stop...?”   
  


  
More silence.  
  


  
“I feel like it doesn’t matter for you. It’s not that you need me —you just need someone. You just happened to run into me, right?”

The light began to hurt his eyes. He turns to the window.   
  


  
“What do you plan on doing after I leave?” Jaehyun rubs his nose bridge. “-go home?”

Nothing. He tries again.

”Did you get kicked out? Run out of money?”

He waits. He hears cleaning carts in the hall. Traffic rumbles. Someone’s showering in the other room. Taeyong sighs.

”No,” His voice comes faint. Small. “-I just don’t think they wanted me around.”

”Why not?”

”Because I’m not what they expected? Whatever they expected.”

”That’s okay. You’re okay with that, right?”

”Am I? Am I really?” Taeyong starts laughing. “-you think I know what the hell I wanna be? I let a bunch of strangers carve demon signs on my stomach two months ago. I clearly have problems.”

”Well, at least you can admit you have problems. That’s better than most people.”

”Are you most people?”

Jaehyun turns around, chuckling. He wipes at the other’s damp eyes. 

“I like to think I’m better. I think I’m some people.”

”Oh, yeah? And what’s some people?”

”Some people know they have problems.”

”Right.”

”They don’t do anything about it,” He held Taeyong’s face gently, staring at his mouth. He can’t help it. “-because they expect other people to fix it for them.”

“And if they don’t?”

”Maybe they end up like us.”

”What? Are we not good?”

”No. No, we’re fine. Now come on, get off,” He bunches up the sheets as Taeyong rolls to rest on the pillows. Jaehyun just lets them crumple onto the carpet. “-we’re just too tired and fucked up to think right, right now.”

  
  
(~)

”Should we go to sleep?”   
  


  
The television has froze on the channel playing endless fitness commercials. Neon gear glares painfully into their eyes against the darkness. They huddle by the pillows, crunching on discount beernuts from 3 am room service. Taeyong giggles as the screen zooms in on a pair of insanely tan, rock-solid abs. He presses his face into the other’s sticky neck, prickly with crumbs.

“Those are pretty nice,” Jaehyun glanced down, brushing brown sugar clumps off his lap. “-I remember when I used to have some too.”

”I like yours just fine.”

”Yeah? Is it better for your self-esteem?”

“What self-esteem?” He laughs. “-is that an add-on with the foam rollers? Can they throw in a water bottle and lanyard too?”

Maybe they could stay up a little longer. Just for a little while.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the skinning scene on taeyong’s laptop is from winter’s bone (2010)
> 
> an excellent film —worth a watch if you’re okay with darker stuff!


	16. part iii: the termination: the stairwell

At 4 am in the morning, Jaehyun’s phone buzzed as he came back from the bathroom. He squinted at the caller id. _ Why would Sydney call at this hour? _Fortunately, Seorin slept in the other room. His thumb was bandaged. He cut it this morning, tossing out the plate shards. It still hurt when he washed his hands.

He let it ring seven times before he picked up. 

“Yeah?”

“_Hello? Jay?_”

He blinks. It’s Kevin.

“Y-yes, it’s, uh, Jay —why are you...?”

He heard shuffling and rustling in the background. Something heavy hit the ground. Jaehyun adjusted the phone to put less pressure on his thumb.

“Kevin? Hey —what’s going on, is everything okay?”

“_Mom’s not moving.” _

“Hey. Just, just calm down,” His head was going fuzzy, it took some time to register the words. “-maybe she’s sleeping, maybe she—

_ “-I can’t find her pulse —please, Jay —please come back —I-I tried calling 911, but I hung up, I— _

“-I’ll call them right now and tell them the address—

“-_No, no, no, j-just please just come back —I don’t like them —I don’t want them t— _

“-Okay, okay —I’m getting ready right now,” Jaehyun wedged his phone against his shoulder, dragging on his pants, his belt jangling. He shook off the numbness in his other hand. “-I’m going as fast as I can, just wait right there.”

He jogged down the stairs, telling Kevin he’ll be there in maybe five, ten minutes. He told him not to touch anything. Then he changed his mind, telling Kevin to gently pry open his mother’s mouth, check if anything might be stuck in her throat. He found nothing. He said her skin felt cold and clammy. Reception got rough. He hung up.

Stepping out onto the driveway, Jaehyun realized how cold it was, running back in for his coat. He grabbed two more coats and threw them in the back. 

It was still dark. He hadn’t downed a glass of water or washed his face. Crusts stung his eyes and his forehead grinded as he neared every red light. It hurt worse when they turned green. When Jaehyun made the last left, he nearly swung into a van —parked dangerously far from the curb. He rolled down the window, cursing at it, trying to let the cold clear his head. 

Trudging along the grass, his foot went into something squishy, his pant cuffs soaking through as he reached the steps of Sydney’s house. The screen door swayed. The one behind was wedged open with an Iron Man figure. 

He found them at the bottom of the stairs. Kevin rested Sydney’s head on his bony lap, her pajama-clad legs splayed out on the floor. She looked different, bloated. Kevin’s hair was matted, his face all blotchy. Jaehyun had noticed a shaft of light across Syd’s green socks and jogged over. When he got closer, he saw her toes were stained black with blood. A dark, uneven streak ran down her inner pant seam.

He felt her skin. It _ was _ cold, just like Kevin had said —and he smelled something foul like vomit and expired yogurt. He found no food stains on her though, then Kevin gently raised her shoulders. Jaehyun got an arm under and carried her out. 

Setting her carefully in the back, Jaehyun told Kevin to get in and strap the seatbelts for both of them. Then he told him to wrap one of the coats on the seat around her stomach. Kevin said nothing the whole ride, just squeezing his Mom’s hand as they neared the hospital. He didn’t seem to register the cold, despite wearing only a tank top and boxer shorts. He looked out the window a lot, his mouth trembling.

When the doctor came into the hall, he told them it was likely just menstrual cramps. She’d mixed Advil with 600 mg of Ambien, desperate to sleep. The blood on her socks was not from an injury. They had her on flumazenil. She would be okay. 

As Jaehyun got up, the doctor stopped him and asked to speak with him privately. They walked Kevin to the gymnasium where a few other kids were playing basketball with staff. They wore tags which swung around as they ran and leaped. 

In the stairwell, the doctor crossed his arms, his clipboard slotted underneath. He regarded Jaehyun with a coldness he’d previously hidden. 

“I know it’s not my business what you do in your family, but I think it‘s gone too far.”

“Family? What do you mean?”

“We found bruises all over your wife’s stomach and back —many of them very recent. An older one was found along her hip —it’s roughly the size of an adult shoe. Under her left breast, we found a burn mark the size of—

“-She is not my wife. We’ve never been married.”

“Her boyfriend, then.”

“I’m not her boyfriend.”

“Brother? Cousin?”

Jaehyun winced, leaning against the railing, ducking his eyes down. The faulty lights were making his head spin.

“I’m not from the family.”

“Then why are you here? What is your relationship to this woman?”

“I’m her son’s tutor.”

The doctor waited for him to continue. Jaehyun sighed. 

“He called me earlier because he got scared when he called 911.”

“Scared? Why?”

“He told me he doesn’t like them or something —I don’t know, I was rushing to get dressed. Ask him. He’ll tell you.”

“Ask him? He can’t be more than thirteen. At such an age, how can you expect th—

“-Why do you think _I_ did it?” Jaehyun snapped. “-what shit kinda proof do you have? Huh? Did you find my _fingerprints_ on her or s—

“Right now, this is very strong evidence for assault,” He cut in. “-don’t make it any more difficult than it has to be. We’ll need to take samples from you —blood, hair, urine, skin cells —the more generous you are, the better. We’re already sending a team to the house. If you’re uninvolved, I see no reason to object.”

The two of them were silent for a while. 

Jaehyun suddenly sank down, gripping the bottom of the railing. He tried to vomit, but all that came out was stringy saliva. For a while, his vision was just static. He’d hadn’t had such a bad migraine in weeks. The doctor had to hold his waist as they went down the hall. He tried to breathe through his mouth as they walked. The smell of rubbing alcohol was very strong.

Later, he learned that another doctor had the same conversation with Kevin in a different room. He’d left the gymnasium as soon as Jaehyun and the first doctor were gone and tried to smoke in the other stairwell.

On the way back, Kevin asked if he could stay at his place instead. Jaehyun felt bad saying no. The kid didn’t even go into the house, just sinking onto the Papasan in the front porch. Jaehyun only pulled out the driveway when he was sure he’d fallen asleep.

When Jaehyun got home, the sky was already light. He collapsed on the bed and slept until noon. 

When he went down to rummage the fridge, the house was empty. Maybe Seorin had gone out for a walk again. Sometimes she just left. Said nothing. He never had any idea when or if she would come back.

He just hoped and kept hoping.

(~)

Two days later, he sat with Hyojeong on the swings, watching the neon figures down the street move in and out of Sydney’s yellow-taped house. Kevin was staying after school. Badminton practice. It was nearly 7 pm. He should’ve been back by now. 

“He likes to hang around the gas station sometimes,” Hyojeong shrugged. “-sometimes the cashier gives him a discount on the Gatorade. They volunteered at the same gym last summer.”

“Maybe they’re seeing each other.” 

“She’s nineteen. Six years —that’s gross.”

“You think Kevin cares? Trust me, I’ve been there,” Jaehyun looked down, somewhat embarrassed. “-I had crushes on older women all the time. I didn’t _ do _anything obviously, but...”

“Jeez. What’s wrong with thirteen year old boys…”

“It gets worse at fifteen. Actually, I guess it never stops getting worse,” He laughed. “-not until we find someone, probably.”

“When did you first find someone?”

Jaehyun thought for a while.

“Seventeen, maybe. I think I was doing a shift for the apartment pool. The water was overheated, the sun was shining through the giant wall windows…”

He turned and saw that Hyojeong had fallen onto the sand. She sat with her chin pressed onto her knees, wiping her eyes. 

“How can Syd be _ this_ stupid? Fuck. Sooner or later, Kevin’s gonna get sent to some foster home.”

Jaehyun looked at her. It took him some time to realize what she meant.

The figures began climbing back into the van, packing the last marked bags into the trunk. Small white flags now dotted the lawn. 

“Last year it happened five times in two months. I used to be the one Kevin called.”

She shook her head.

“It wasn’t as bad as this time. She was usually semi-conscious by the time I arrived,” She ducked down, drying her eyes on her sweater. “-sometimes I had to make her vomit the stuff out. It scared Kevin a lot, at first. He got used to it later.”

They watched as the clouds covered the sun. Now the forensic team reached the main road, waiting for lights to change.

“She’s lost. So fucking lost. That man made her forget it for a while and now it’s back.”

Jaehyun sat down beside her, combing aimlessly through the sand. Sometimes ants would weave around his knuckles.

“It’s a problem with her. When you need other people to fulfill your happiness, you always come out with less.”

Hyojeong got up and smacked the sand off her bum, heading towards the plaza down the street.

  
  


(~)

“What’s that you got there?”

Jaehyun turns, chuckling as Taeyong leans over to study the opened folder in his lap. He’d woken up towards dawn and decided maybe he should get some work done. Hotels were nice before morning. Quiet, almost melancholic. He’d turned on the lamp —the window’s light was still too blue, and dug for his red pen.

He chews the cap, then pokes Taeyong in the ear with it.

“Trying to work. Been trying for a while.”

The other leans his cheek on Jaehyun’s neck, looking up at him innocently. His hand had other ideas. 

“Maybe I can help.”

“Alright, let me read it out to you,” Ignoring the shuffling in his pants, at least trying to. He rolls his eyes, sighing thinly. “-you know, this is _very_ counterintuitive…”

“Read it out loud, come on. I’ll keep up the pace,” He grins. Runs his thumb back and forth. “-or do you want me to go faster? Slower?”

Jaehyun flips the folder closed, tossing it onto the floor. In a second, he has the other on his back, sighing as Taeyong strokes his calf with his foot. He buries his face in his shoulder.

“What am I gonna do with you…?”  
  
  


Taeyong grins wider, moving his foot farther up.

”Whatever you want. I’m down.”

He hates him so much he almost thinks he loves him. 

(~)

Three years ago, Taeyong had found himself wandering the stairwell of this place at two in the morning. His teeth still ached from the pie he’d stolen from the pantry again. He leaned against the wall, just under the sixth floor. He picked melted crusts from his foam cup, chewing.

At least there was some heating here. 

Back home, the radiator had broken again. Even wearing his Northface coat over three layers of sweaters still left his fingers freezing. Must be stress, he thinks. His feet stung cold too —all the warmth in his body decided to congregate in his lungs.

Getting here hadn’t been hard. Taeyong just packed a couple water bottles, some pens and a sleeping bag, filling the rest of his backpack with stone-hard Rice Krispies. He kept one in his pocket, munching on the sweet, sticky stuff as he followed the lamp posts down the street. He’d left through the window.

Actually, it wasn’t even their house. They were just squatting here for now —since six years ago —until Hyojeong found a better job. Right now she worked the register at A&W three days a week, while filling in temporarily at the local furniture store on the weekends until Brandon what’s-his-face came back from vacation.

He trusted his sister. While Taeyong hadn’t always agreed with how she handled things, he had no doubt that she cared for him. 

After Mom had dashed a picture frame at his feet, Hyojeong grabbed his arm and raced them both down the stairwell, holding Taeyong’s fourteen-year old shoulders as he cried outside. She told him they couldn’t stay here anymore. Dad had already moved out. 

_ But we can’t just abandon her. What about all the things Mom did for us before, before it went bad? _

Hyojeong thought about it. Then she sighed. 

_ Okay. We’ll find a place where we can stay at night. I don’t trust being in the same house as that woman when we’re sleeping. _

They began searching right away. Taeyong hugged a stack of real estate catalogues to the curb from the nearby news rack. He flipped through them, trying to read the fine print through his tears. Whatever the numbers were, he only knew the houses cost a _ lot _of money. More than they could ever hope to get. He counted five zeroes after positive numbers for the cheapest ones.

His sister sat down beside him and shook her head.

_No houses. Those things have mortgages and I don’t even really understand how they work. We need an apartment —we just pay per month and they have water, heating, lights and stoves. _

It wasn’t much better. The cheapest places had three zeroes after them —they had to pay a six-month flat fee before moving in —the number with three zeroes times six —plus another two hundred for parking. (Luckily, they had no car.) And that wasn’t even including weekly groceries. 

_ So what do we do? Maybe we can get help from the school? _

She told him scholarships didn’t work that way. Schools pay you to go to school, not to go live somewhere else. 

For a while, they spent nights in the nearby park, setting up their old tent in a grassy area by the washrooms. It was still August, they never got too cold. But Hyojeong was paranoid of addicts and rapists and smeared one side of their tent with dog shit to keep them away.

It worked well. Even raccoons couldn’t stand the smell.

Sometimes Taeyong didn’t want to go. He still liked his old bedroom —with his pillow, his posters, his lived-in clothes and sketchbooks that gave the room a warm, wooly smell. And he missed Mom. She was still good sometimes. Actually, Mom had gotten strangely docile after she found out the two of them no longer slept at home. 

But Hyojeong refused to stay with him in that house. And he’d gotten too used to her protecting him. 

So Taeyong endured the stench, unzipped the windows on both sides, letting the cool air inside each night. He always woke up with his face ice cold, and soaked in sweat from the neck down. But he didn’t hate it, not completely. Sunlight rippling through the leaves was the first thing he saw every morning. The birds seemed milder too. Taeyong went out as soon as he had to pee and then he’d find a place to sit down and draw.

The park was also closer to school than their old house. He could sleep in a little longer. 

So there he was, in the stairwell at 2 am, crumpling up his third Rice Krispie, and picking out the pieces in his teeth. Taeyong figured he’d stay here for another eight minutes, just until he got warm enough. Initially wanting to sleep here, he decided against it when he heard vicious banging from down the hall. It sounded like the door would fold in at any moment.

He notices movement beside him. A disheveled-looking woman leaned against the corner of the wall, a leather jacket slung over her pajamas. She had a cigarette in her mouth, still unlit. She looked up.

“You mind?”

Taeyong shook his head, waving it off. 

She flicked her lighter a few times, gritting. She looked up again.

“You got a light?”

He balanced his backpack on a raised knee and dug the smaller pockets. Just candy wrappers, Dentyne and bus transfers. A rupee and a couple dimes. Pens. Halls, lemon. Extra socks. Sunscreen; SPF 65.

“Sorry. I think my sister took it.”

“She smoke too?”

“No. She doesn’t trust me with fire.”

The woman chuckles.

“Neither does my husband. He _ insists _ he forgot the candles for the cake yesterday.”

“It was your birthday?”

“His. I bought the cake. He doesn’t remember my birthday half the time.”

“That’s kinda sad.”

“It’s fine. He forgets his own birthday too,” She tossed the cigarette on the floor. “-It was a Valentine’s cake, for me, technically.”

“Same day? That’s pretty cool.”

“Every year I think he shares less and less with it.”

“Where’s he now?”

“Over there,” She went over to the window on the 6th floor door. 

Taeyong joined her and peered through the wire-crossed glass. Some meters away, a man in dull blue pajamas sat slumped against the door, legs out along the carpet. He seemed to be snoring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, was gone for a while bc of a camping trip and then some family issues.
> 
> stay tuned! :)


	17. the river, part ii

She goes to the river to dispose of the blood. This will make it the third time in the past five years. Seorin clutches the stained underwear, turning her fingers purple as she scrapes at the fabric, searching uselessly. Tiny pebbles grind into her knees as she sinks to the ground. _ How much longer…? How much longer will this keep happening to me…? _

After she scrubs the material into a faint brown, she walks straight through the river. Parting the reeds, Seo finds the two older mounds she marked with skinny crab apple branches. Near the tips, white ties wave in the wind. Just pieces of a plastic Costco bag. She found it, caught by the park garbage can. 

Over here, they had white for weddings. Back home, they had white for death.

The first time it happened, she had been chopping cucumbers for a liang-ban salad. Her stomach clenched and twisted. As she went into the living room to turn down the air conditioning, Seo felt something warm trickle down her leg. When she looked down, three bright circles of blood stained the hardwood tiles. 

She ran, stumbling into the bathroom. No, no, no, it couldn’t be true. _ No, no, no, no… _She must’ve done something wrong —maybe she sat crooked, maybe she slept too long, maybe she laughed too much, maybe she showered too hot. Maybe she moved too much, and it shook the life to death. She always went for a run around the park in the morning. It was easier now that she’d cut down to half a pack a day. Even after she got pregnant, she hadn’t stopped. She thought it was fine. 

Running was good for her. For forty good minutes, Seo forgot about the anger that clawed through her brain whenever she was left alone. Cold morning air in her face, the damp grass soaking into her socks, passing by the same trees over and over again. Almost talismanic. The pale sky replaced all the scribbles in her mind. For forty good minutes, there was no pain except her left side. By the fifth circle, that left too. 

Her day-job as a middle school teacher had also helped, but then they’d laid her off last year. They were expanding classrooms to sixty students instead of thirty —she was one of the four dropped off. 

She’d tried to understand at the beginning. Her parents used to attend classes of seventy or more. They’d turned out okay. 

But now all she sees is the useless junk in her apartment —_their _ apartment —all the shit Jaehyun picked up from past garage sales and never ended up using. That Sony monitor that wouldn’t even turn on, clocking in at fifteen kilograms could take out your entire set of toes if you stepped wrong, sweeping the floor. All those bundles of foam boards crammed into the top of their bookshelf. Once in a while, he’d place one over his seat at dinner, saying it kept his ass from getting cold. _ And that heater dial by the TV is just for decoration, right? _

What’s worse is the crap they’ve accumulated that they’ve just never bothered to throw away.

Shoe boxes. Just shoe boxes stacked fucking everywhere —some of them didn’t even have shoes. Just that crinkly stuffing paper, like bread paper except you couldn’t wrap bread in it because it’s been in fucking shoes.

All this junk and you couldn’t eat any of it, couldn’t sell it either. Groceries weren’t getting any cheaper and the fine print on the coupons were getting more and more bullshit. Whenever the price was too good to be true, something turned soft, something grew black spots, something smelled funny in a week or so, or tasted like wet, crunchy cotton. 

They were both losing weight. If they didn’t like it, they didn’t eat it. Other than the occasional yogurt or peanut butter binge, all they had was cold coffee, porridge and salted seaweed. 

Now all Seo had were her cram school hours and those were only twice a week. Less than fifteen students attended regularly now. The board reduced the hours down from four to two; Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays. Budget cuts. _ Where were the saved funds going to, huh? Cocktail parties? Rooftop orgies with celebrity guests? _

And adding to that trouble, Jaehyun had quit his job six months ago. Said it just wasn’t for him. He wasn’t feeling _ connected _ to it, to the people, the company, the values. _ I can’t mesh with what they’re doing. Profiting from good people’s suffering. All that ugly, self-cultivated hatred. It’s all fake, all of it, everything. _

He’d been doing corporate for a cosmetic surgery line. He couldn’t stand it —the diagrams plastered all around his office showing the correctional steps for the perfect nose, the perfect jaw, the perfectly spaced eyes. _ Funny you would say that, _ she’d snorted at him —_you seem to have all those ratios yourself. _It didn’t make Jaehyun’s point less valid, no, but it just became kind of funny. A beautiful person getting mad that other people were becoming beautiful too.

He said it wasn’t just that._ My supervisor’s also a fucking asshole. Picking at everything I do, all up in my ass like he’s got nothing better to do. He hates me —hated me ever since Donna from HR offered to buy me lunch. I never did anything —it was all her —she tries to touch me whenever she gets the chance —grabbing my arm, touching my knee, brushing my hip when she walks by. _

_Everybody there is trying to screw with me, one way or another._

_ So just report her. Call the board on that bitch. _Jaehyunshook his head._ And face eternal humiliation? It’s not like she tried to rip my clothes off or something. _SoSeo tried to understand.But to the point of jeopardizing their paying the rent —fuck, did he not understand mutual cooperation? Mutual suffering, too. You were supposed to give up at least some of your dignity for the bigger picture. Now she had to do extra housework and pull weeds out of her neighbor’s lawn —a widowed Polish guy in his late fifties, to have enough for groceries. Everyone could see her. Maybe some of them thought she was blowing him under the back porch too. Anything for a little extra.

_ What a conundrum that Jaehyun was. _

She liked it better when his kindness didn’t have consequences. When it was just taking in a stray beetle in the rain, then setting it free after its leg had mended. Or shelling a few dollars to a kid and his mom on the streets. 

So Jaehyun started sending out resumés again. After a few weeks, he got a couple interviews. Nobody ever called back. She wonders if he even went to them. _Even if he stumbles on his words a little, he still has that face. _But that was the way he was. If he wasn’t dead set on doing something, he’d just find ways to skirt around it. Like that magical “forgetting” trick he always did whenever she asked him if he called management to fix their hot shower tap. 

Was she bad at sex? Getting worse? Who knows. All Seo knew was that they’d lost the enthusiasm that had made getting snowed in on a college ski trip actually kinda worthwhile. They both still had their socks on —that was part of the joke. And he was generous —so generous, that was when she still liked him that way. Always made sure she came first. Six years older, his broad shouldered frame filling her view with cashmere and promise. His dimples impossibly childlike. When he murmured against her neck, his voice got all thin and silvery, then rumbly and full. He was unreal. 

Her second year of undergrad, his second year of law school. 

She thought he looked so good in that wrinkled collared shirt, messy hair. Three seats away, twirling his nearly empty glass of forget-yourself-for-four-hours. So worldly, so exhausted. The bar was nearly empty.

She could almost see it now again, their hotel room —those shitty yellow curtains, the matted carpet with the suspicious brown stain by the computer desk, the water bottles and cup ramen all plastic wrapped together, priced at $18.99. The shower was tiny. All glass walls and a sliding door that didn’t prevent you from flooding the rest of the bathroom, fully closed. They’d thrown nearly all the spare towels onto the floor to soak up the water. 

And then they’d gotten down and went again. It was so gross. One of her fondest memories, still.

And now, nothing. Now she had no room to blame him. The one thing he couldn’t have autonomy in —and she’d failed him. She failed them both. He’d taken it well enough the first time. He’d held her as she screamed, dried her face with his mostly clean gym shirt. He’d done everything that day —made breakfast, done the laundry, cleared the balcony, fixed the kitchen tap. They’d skipped lunch to watch a crime serial together, then ordered dinner at 1 am —beef pho and cumin lamb. Her favourite. God, he’d even stayed up with her until four, doing his best Korean buddy cop movie impressions. 

The second time, Jaehyun thought she was playing a joke on him. A sick joke. He’d broken one of the bowls as he’d run it under the sink. An accident, but she could see the fuzziness in his eyes.

A child could fix this. A child could make him care again. About her. About anything. He wouldn’t let a child go hungry, wear the same sweater to school every day. He would see himself again in those bright, young eyes. 

Seorin gets up, shaking the numbness off her legs. She stares at the third mound before her —having no memory of having buried the underwear already. Instead of finding another branch, she breaks off a darker reed and sticks it in. Then she limps across the river until her feet finally stop buzzing. When Seo reaches the road, she takes off her shoes. 

As she heads home, Seo passes by a house —a cozy-looking bungalow, faded robin’s egg blue with peeling white trims. Along the wire bench on the front porch, slept a teenager, a thin quilt thrown over his legs. Early evening sun cast a shaft of light over his throat. It could have been on a postcard. She almost envied him until she noticed the almost imperceptible movement in his jaw, the shake in his shoulders.

He was crying, too.

(~)

“I have an idea.”

Jaehyun turned to him, brushing the hair from his face. They both lay on their backs, mostly bare, the sheets mostly on the floor. They stayed in his room the whole week. Ordered room service whenever they needed anything. Ignored the looks of the servers pushing the carts in, grimacing at all the clothes piled on the floor. Sometimes Jaehyun covered his stomach with the blankets. Sometimes he didn’t care. Whenever they needed air, they just opened a window, went to the balcony. It was just less hassle to stay in their underwear. Taeyong covered his stomach with the other’s slightly damp shirt, chewing the side of his thumb. 

“Yeah?”

“What if you didn’t leave. What if you stayed here, with me.”

“Sure. Let’s stay here all day,” Jaehyun leans in, chuckling. He could barely feel his legs now. “-I’m good with that.”

“No. I mean, don’t go. Don’t go back. Just stay.”

“Here? In a hotel. How long do you think I can afford room service —let alone the room?”

“I have money too. I can make more —with the right lighting and a few hours of video. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Don’t say that. That’s messed up.”

He’d stopped leaving. After he woke enough times with Taeyong snoring by his side in the morning, he stopped wanting to. He liked watching the gray sunlight trace loose triangles across his back. He liked his rawness. He liked kissing his shoulder, kissing his neck to wake him up. He had terrible breath in the morning, but so did everyone. It was okay.

“You think I’m messed up?”

“That’s not what I mean. You know that.”

He would never go to that house again. Her life wasn’t his anymore.

Taeyong shrugs away from his hand, sighing. He felt his left foot going numb. Just the faintest of prickles.

“I used to miss so much school. To the point where I still don’t know what I’m actually good at,” He crushes the shirt in his hands, staring at the ceiling. “-only reason I even got into college is ‘cause I practically slept in the library to get away from my fucking family.”

He went quiet and when he spoke again, his voice was thick and shaky.

“I actually slept there, once. Along the couches in the English second language section, hugging some stupid sports magazine. There was a column that mostly blocked off that part, so the custodian must've missed me. I woke up in the middle of the night. Freezing. My throat felt like it cracked open. But the sliding doors to the water fountains were shut off. I ended up finding a half finished juice box from the trash, in the dark. It tasted like it had banana peel and gum and blood in it. 

“When I woke up again, I heard children talking and shuffling around nearby. Pages swishing and flipping, the return carts rolling. The lights were on. It was already the afternoon. My throat felt worse —like I’d swallowed glass. I checked my missed calls. Nothing. Even my sister hadn’t called —she was staying over at a friend’s house. When I got home, nobody said anything. Then at dinner, Dad told me to go to my room. You can lock it from the outside. I had a fever, so I just went back to sleep.”

His sister had tried to bring some leftovers upstairs, but Taeyong heard her stop in the middle. Dad’s hushed muttering seemed to go on for several minutes until she shuffled back down. Her voice shook and felt like it would turn to screaming at any moment. Something crashed. Then she started crying. 

Taeyong had heard her slam the door and run to the side of their house facing his room. She called him through the open window. By then her voice blended with the cars and trees. She called for a long time. When he’d woken up later, he found a bunch of snacks —granola bars, instant noodles and custard buns scattered over his wrinkled covers. She must have tossed them up.

“My parents thought you could only learn through pain. They thought I’d never leave again because I’d be afraid of not getting fed. But I did, and I wasn’t. I just prepared better and packed things. 

“You know, in a way, maybe they helped me. They taught me not to need them. Don’t we all have to learn that sooner or later?”

He presses the shirt over his face and it makes his eyes sting more. Jaehyun digs his backpocket and hands him a wad of brittle tissues, thin as tracing paper. It stung too. But by now everything did.

Rather than needing people, you needed to learn how to make them need you. You could take anything from anybody like they were some park reserve as long as you gave a little something back. Taeyong turns away, picking at the sticker on the side of the lamp table. It’s always like this. He’d almost gotten used to it. 

He feels Jaehyun’s chest pressing into his back, his arm holding his breathing together, his thumb smoothing his wrist. It‘s almost comforting.

He hated how much he needed him now. He wished this feeling would just go away. He felt so caged in. He should know better. 

Jaehyun kisses the back of his neck, humming. He smiles. He’d wanted to do that since they’d first met in that washroom. 

“I’ll stay. It’s okay. I’ll stay until you tell me to go.”

(~)

“He seems sweet.”

The woman turned to Taeyong, still watching her husband sleep in the hallway. The fluorescence revealed the stains on his backpack, the acne on his cheeks. She sighed.

“You’ve never lived with him.”

He laughed. 

“Fair enough.”

They said nothing for a while. Taeyong glanced down the stairs —the sudden barrage of shouting rattling a lower floor. A door swung open and he heard a guy laughing as an older woman screamed at him to come back. The tv played over them, he could hear children. It was close to three am. 

Then she turned to him again.

“Would you like to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, i was gone for a while, there were some family issues going on...  
...still not entirely resolved, but it’s somewhat better.
> 
> hope everyone is staying safe, school is starting soon.


	18. the rhythm

Jaehyun received the results in the mail several months after the initial investigation. His pulse slowed as he scanned the notice, his hands no longer shaking as he read the lines _ No definite DNA match found/DNA results unclear. _Of course, the matter was complicated further when he’d carried Sydney out of the house, physical contact was inevitable —but the team was now trying to rule out any extraneous factors. For now, at least their suspicion of him had dropped somewhat.

He received a call later that evening from one of the doctors they’d met that night, apologizing for causing him anxiety over the matter. The situation had changed dramatically a few days ago —with the arrival of a series of phone-recorded video clips given by the son. Kevin had sent them a total of 17 minutes of footage that ruled both of them out as potential perpetrators. Jaehyun was invited to a private viewing of the material the following week.

He agreed. He waited for another envelope in the mail, containing the permissions paperwork. He tried reading the fine print, but found his mind wandered after every third sentence. It was just too long. Too many words, familiar yet oddly unsettling because of how flat and distant they felt. _ You are not authorized under any circumstances to withdraw your cons...We obtain the right to full disclosure whereby...Please be advised that we are not responsible for any complications or misrepresentation in regards to… _

He signed the bottom line, his hand feeling cold. 

Jaehyun stood at the kitchen counter for a while, just staring at the wall of text on the page. He almost felt bad for the people who produced the stuff no one wanted to read. But then he remembered reading somewhere that they were usually paid high enough to compensate. 

He thinks to the night before. When he showed Seorin those letters. Her eyes. How they froze over, the way her whole face did. A still, dead lake. Her lip curled into a dry almost-smile. His lip still stung. There were still ceramic crumbs on the table. He called her nineteen times, until five in the morning. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her father. He was worried she hadn’t actually gone there at all. The last three calls he made were to his house. No one picked up. They didn’t even have voicemail. 

She still hadn’t returned. Jaehyun thought about calling the police, but wondered if maybe he just needed more time. It would look so silly if she came in ten minutes later, while sirens scoured the streets. Too silly. Technically, she hadn’t even been gone twenty-four hours. He should wait. He should wait, at least another hour or two. 

That wasn’t the only thing that bothered him. 

Now that he was reading through the letters again, Jaehyun began to get the feeling that his initial interpretation had been wrong. He’d gone for the obvious, assuming it was a naive, silly confessional. At times deeply emotional, other times, oddly distracted. _ Please, oh, God, please don’t leave me alone, you don’t understand how bad it’s gotten now that I can’t talk to you anymore. I barely get any sleep at all. I keep having these visions —visions of her finding me and cornering me in my bed with a kitchen knife. I’m trying to grab her wrists, but I miss and the knife goes through my arm. I have visions of her killing him, killing me. Killing you. Please, please just talk to me. You don’t even have to see me, just send me something so I know you’re there. _

_ I don’t sleep anymore. Sometimes I just cry and cry. I cry until I can’t breathe anymore and then I have to go to the sink to wash my face. I’m always cold. Even when I’m under three heavy blankets, my hands are still freezing. My feet, too. You know, you can’t sleep if your feet are cold. I watch these streaks of light on the ceiling when I can’t sleep. Where do you think they come from? I’ve moved to the ninth floor, so I don’t think they are cars. Planes are too far away. I know I’m not imagining it. Do you see streaks on your ceiling at night too? _

_Eventually the light behind the windows turns blue. Then I black out. It doesn’t feel like sleeping. It feels like shutting down. And when I wake up, I feel weaker, somehow. _

_ You know, you were right. You were right about her, I shouldn’t have gone back. She didn’t get better. _

_ You need to go back. You need to see her. _

_ You need to. _

The most recent one was sent just last month. The letters are unnamed, but he recognizes the handwriting. They had no return address. 

It wasn’t that Jaehyun never tried contacting her. He’d called Hyojeong’s cell, after finding it in her university file. It only rang until it died out by itself. He tried emailing her with her school address and never received a reply. He didn’t know her personal email, he didn’t know where she lived. She didn’t have a home phone in her records. 

He began suspecting there was something wrong with her. Her letters begged for him to contact her, yet all his attempts were acutely rejected. 

As if she was playing a game with him.

He wondered what had happened. She seemed like such a normal girl when they first met in the office. Maybe her joy was somewhat forced, making it all the more morose. Her smile didn’t always reach her eyes. Sometimes Hyojeong didn’t look at him when she spoke. She would look at her page, move her hand over the drawings, look around the office. 

He got the sense that sometimes she was deeply angry. It was in her hands, her jaw. It made him feel a familiar, at times uncomfortable sympathy —he was reminded of his wife. But Hyojeong’s anger was easier. She seemed to draw it within herself and never let it scrape him. Still, he tried to engage her ego as a countermeasure, distract her with it. It worked, mostly. She loved being called intelligent. Gifted. Rare. Her eyes hungered for it. 

Jaehyun sat down at the table, staring at his hands. Something bothered him even more now. Was he drawn to angry, dissatisfied people or was he predisposed to making people that way? Maybe part of him enjoyed it somehow, or he just believed it was the best he could get. At some level, he must hate himself. 

He told himself kind people would bore him. They would make him feel guilty. He’d rather be taken advantage of, than have to do it to someone else. Kinder people always ended up with less.

He went to the fridge and found some leftover noodles. Ate them cold. He fell asleep on the couch again, rereading an old car manual.

(~)

Jaehyun arrived at the police station, holding up his clearance package to the front desk window. The lady nodded, paging those in charge of the case. Two cops appeared a few minutes later, gesturing for him to follow them down the hall. Jaehyun kept his gaze down. He focused on the pattern of black smudges on the floor. 

They entered a small, white room facing a searing blue projector screen, on pause. A man at a folding table takes his paperwork, flips through it and nods. Gestures for him to find a seat. 

Jaehyun sat down in the third row, just off-center. The two cops sat on either side of him. The younger one looked nervous, constantly scratching at a stain on his knee and straightening his collar. The older one looked apologetic and pinched her neck before getting up to go to the back. She returned with three foam cups of coffee and some muffins. Jaehyun thanked her and took a cup, declining the rest.

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. We have to make sure you don’t leave,” She said, setting the empty tray on the floor. “-the papers you signed indicated that you agree to watch the footage from start to finish.”

“Oh. Right. Okay,” He tried to laugh it off, knowing she knew he’d probably skipped over that part. “-that’s fine with me.”

“We can pause the footage at any time. But you cannot leave the room. If you need to use the bathroom—” She gestured to a lighted doorway behind them. It had no door. “-I reassure you my colleague and I will give you the necessary privacy. It’s more for your own safety than ours.”

He nodded. He didn’t know how to answer that.

The cop leaned back to whisper something in the younger one’s ear. It sounded like something reassuring again. He didn’t look any calmer, hissing something back, loud enough for Jaehyun to hear. _ I already saw it yesterday, Clara. Jesus, I can’t believe I have to see this again. _

The room dimmed. The screen became bluer before it darkened also, opening to a vertical video —blurred patches of muddy green, purple and yellow. Someone clicked the grey PLAY button.

A couch. Worn, brown and covered in chip crumbs, a woman slept, covered in a navy blanket. The television is on. Clattering and crunching can be heard nearby, likely in the kitchen.

A girl enters, sitting on a fat armrest. A large bowl of nachos rests in her lap. She waves at the screen, laughing. Jaehyun stiffens. It’s Hyojeong. This must have been back when she tutored Kevin instead.

Sometime later, Hyojeong set the bowl on the floor and headed back to the kitchen. More clattering followed, but this time there was a sliding noise instead of crunching. The camera zooms to follow her and Jaehyun saw her drag a fence-like barrier across the kitchen entrance. It came up to her waist and she had to raise her legs over one at a time to get over.

She dragged a similar barrier across the bottom of the stairs. The video ended.

“That was the most recent clip,” Clara turned to him, as the next one began. “-you might want to set your cup down for the next few.”

Jaehyun took one last gulp and went to toss it in the trash. He came back and sat down. He frowned. His hands felt unusually cold. He sat on them to stop them from shaking.

Over the remaining sixteen minutes, Jaehyun asked them to pause seven times, got up for four, went to the restroom for three. He vomited twice. The second time, he stayed in the restroom for several minutes. He sank down, one hand gripping the sink’s edge, the other on his throat. Some of the vomit spattered onto the floor.

He didn’t get up for the last three minutes. He just remembered it seemed to loop on forever. Later, they told him they had to replay it four times because he refused to watch. Jaehyun still didn’t recall it well, in the end. His vision had blurred out by then.

But the audio was more than enough. He heard everything.

(~)

“She burned her own stomach with a metal ladle. She left it in the oven at 400 degrees for twenty minutes before she took it out again. It stuck to her skin until it cooled off, then she trimmed off the burnt parts. I have no idea how she could withstand the pain. It still makes me shake even now.”

They sit outside in the back garden, watching a sky soon to rain. It would be March in a couple weeks. Taeyong folds and unfolds an old bus transfer, feeling his fingertips get sandy with pigment. He doesn’t remember paying the rent since January, maybe even December. No one’s bugged them since, though. He expected a terrifying bill by the end of the month.

Jaehyun sat across, not completely facing him. He rubs at his eyes, pinching the iron knots of the table. 

“It was all self-inflicted. She used to climb to the top of the stairs and dive off. She jumped over and over again. By the time Kevin stopped her, some of her ribs were probably broken. She rammed her stomach into table edges, she used to hit herself in the shower with a hammer. When Kevin tried calling the police, she threatened to kill him.”

Jaehyun pressed his knuckles against his eyes, exhaling.

“I used to think Hyojeong lied to me. About how it wasn’t nearly so bad before I came along. But now I think she told me that so I wouldn’t leave. She was exhausted. She couldn’t protect Kevin from his mother anymore. So she needed me there.”

He found out more later. A few days after Jaehyun saw the video clips, Kevin called him in the evening. He said he’d been hiding some things too. His mother wasn’t the one taking heavy drugs—and Jaehyun had figured since he found nothing in the bathroom cabinets. Hyojeong had been drugging her for years. It was the only way to stop her from hurting herself at night. It always happened at night. The night he drove them to the hospital, Kevin was the one who drugged her.

“It wasn’t that he needed a tutor. He’d stopped going to school. He was terrified of leaving Sydney at home by herself —even in the daytime. She couldn’t cook, she couldn’t shower by herself, he had to help her go up and down the stairs. He usually let her sleep in the garden behind their house.” 

The Sydney woman he’d met the day Jaehyun first visited that house —wasn’t even her. It was Kevin’s next-door neighbor—paid to stand in as his mother while his real one stayed in the basement whenever he came. Now that Jaehyun really thought about it, they actually didn’t even look alike —he just reasoned with himself that Sydney had lost a lot of weight since the living room photos.

_ So Sydney wasn’t really looking for a tutor. Kevin was looking for a stand-in husband. _

He wipes his nose with the back of his hand. He kept his gaze at the table.

“There’s a scene that keeps playing in my head. I saw it again last night, when we were in the pool. I’m on a bed. Somewhere dark, it’s raining. I can’t move my arms. A woman starts taking off my clothes. She undoes my belt and drags my pants down.

“For the longest time, I thought it was Hyojeong. I cut her off and wouldn’t contact her for months. She began sending me these scary, desperate letters and that only made me more sure it was her. I saw no other way.”

“But it wasn’t,” Taeyong spoke finally. “-it wasn’t her, was it?”

Jaehyun smiles, picking at an old spot on his thumb. Soon, it glints red. He winces. He keeps picking.

“When I visited the house again, I went down to the basement —for the first time. I passed by a small bedroom with a small window near the ceiling.”

He’d sat down on the bed. Sank down, letting the sheets hug his back. The smell made him swing. He felt his arms go cold. 

He could almost feel the rain again. 

His fingers stung when he felt the crusts along the sheets. They seem to go on forever, separating then amassing again. A desert of pain. 

When he looked to the right, he saw it. A shiny, yellowed imprint on the wall, indicating a frame. Goya’s horse. His dead horse with the bloodied knees. 

Or maybe that’s what he wanted it to be. Maybe it had been a picture frame of nothing. Nothing-people smiling into a nothing-camera in a nothing-place. Nothing to save him. Nothing smiling over him as he bled out too.

He wanted to find it in himself to forgive her. To forgive them all. So he had been used to stave off a wound. Playing dead husband in his sleep. Halfway into sleep. Playing dead husband to a woman who only stopped hurting herself when he came home.

“She’s not a bad woman. I don’t believe it. She feels something I don’t understand, but that doesn’t make her...” The blood on his thumb had dried. His hands began feeling anxious again. “-maybe I got used to it. It must have happened so many times.”

_ Doesn’t that make me worse? _

“You didn’t have to do that for her. You should have stopped going to that house.”

He looks at Taeyong with a muted, almost grateful expression.

“I know. I should have tried harder.”

(~)

Kneeling by the crisp, damp plaque, Jaehyun set down the bundle of mismatched wildflowers and grasses he’d found along the way. He touches the arch of granite, sighing. It had been a long walk. Too long. Over the years, the blue-inked words had smudged and swollen in his wallet, he could no longer make out the fifth and eighth sentences.

Luckily, Taeyong was accustomed to deciphering rain-bloated scribble. His sister left notes on the door all the time. She loved taking walks in the rain. Before she left, she always told him what was in the fridge and what was on sale —diving straight into a grocery list. 

He stood by the gate, watching Jaehyun crouched still, as if talking to a young child. He watched him run his hand over a light square in the center of the stone. A photograph.

They’d used one of her living room photos. Her curls blow in the wind, her face is delightfully full. Her red blouse is bright and catches the sun. There’s some lipstick on her teeth. She smiles, still.

He reasons with himself that it had to happen. Here was a woman who didn’t fit into the world. Her rhythm shook its cornerstones and sent patterns the rest of us could not read.

She’d walked straight into a red light. She must have seen the truck burst through the fog seconds before they met.

She died instantly. 

Kevin called him from a hospital phone. Though they knew she was gone by then, they still needed somewhere to get all her paperwork sorted out.

He called him to tell him he was sorry. He knew sorry was not enough, but at the given time, it was the best he could offer. He was sorry for lying. He was sorry for having a lousy, sick mother. He was sorry the mother couldn’t get better. He was sorry the mother tried getting better by making things worse. 

He was sorry that Jaehyun had to get involved —did he want some of the money that Sydney had left for him? It was not a small amount of money. And she had never written her will. Kevin said he could have most of it, if he wanted. _ Actually, you can have— _

Jaehyun declined politely, telling him that it was nonsense. Unlike Kevin, he didn’t have to go to school anymore. Did Kevin know how much school would cost after he graduated? _ It’s not a small amount of money either, hey. _He’d chuckled, hearing it echo faintly in the background.

He said he was sorry too. He said that mothers shouldn’t die before their kids. That was very irresponsible. She’d hear it from God, for sure, in the afterlife. 

After that, they’d both stopped talking. Jaehyun heard noises in the receiver that sounded oddly similar to the sound of him wiping stuff off his face. He heard breathing. Thin, indistinct.

He asked if Kevin still wanted a tutor. Maybe he could drop by on weekends, just to see how things were going. It would be another four months before he could arrange to move in with his relatives in California.

They decided not to meet in the house anymore. They found a corner of the plaza that was quieter on Sundays. It always was, now that it had gotten colder. They sat by the doors, analyzing Othello over carry-out plastic bowls of pho. 

A few weeks later, he would get divorced. 

As Jaehyun started heading back to the gate, he felt a sense of relief as the first beads of rain tapped his face. He felt it in his hair just above his eyes, dotting his nose. Thunder began breaking overhead. He sighs. He jogs over to Taeyong who already took off his jacket, lifting a stretch to pull him under. 

He hadn’t fought it then. He’d just been relieved Seo had finally come home.

Even as it rains harder, they walk the same, slow, measured pace. Jaehyun felt his pants soaking over at the back, down the inseams of his legs. He looks over at Taeyong. _Did he feel the rain too?_ He sloshed right into a puddle then and snorted, sending a spray over Taeyong’s ankles too. The guy shoves him, laughing. 

Eventually, the jacket wasn’t useful anymore. They walked on, faces lifted to the rain, Taeyong even so much as spreading out his arms and sighing. His jacket dragged across the ground as he hummed a faint, lilting tune. 

“It’s...a song my mother knew about the rain. I don’t remember the words anymore. It’s so sad,” He laughs. “-it was only two stupid lines over and over again.”

“It’s okay. Maybe you’ll remember again, sometime.”

When they reached the hotel again, Jaehyun collapsed onto the curb. They were just steps away from the doors, but he couldn’t bring himself to go in. Taeyong joined him, leaning his face against his neck. At least they could wait until he was warm again. Warmth, then rest.

They sat for a while, watching the rain blur the distant houses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter will be an epilogue 
> 
> also, added some extra parts to ch 11, 13


	19. epilogue: carve

It took a while for her to arrive. Taeyong watched her loosen from the crowd of orange, raking hair off her face. She looked around. When she saw him, a weak smile appeared. Her eyes looked hollow, sunken under her brow. She’d lost weight again. 

She weaved past the other tables, and when she sat down her knees made a snapping sound. He noticed how small her wrists looked —even smaller than they used to be. Hyojeong drew her sleeve farther down, but not before he saw the bruises around her elbow. 

“It’s been a while. I’m glad you decided to…” She folded her hands together, looking down. “-I’m glad you decided to come by.”

“I’m sorry. I should have come sooner.” 

“It’s okay. You needed time. Maybe it worked out better this way. You know?”

They don’t say anything for a while. 

“I missed you. I missed you so much,” Taeyong stared at her scalp, chipped with blood and grit. Two years and seven months. “-and I was mad at you —I shouldn’t have been so mad —I shouldn’t have let that…”

“Don’t be like that, Yong-ah. You don’t have to apologize. It wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault.”

He looked around. Three tables away, a woman in a suit sat across from an elderly woman in the orange uniform. They said nothing, not even looking at each other. Behind them, a man in construction overalls passed a toddler over to the woman on the other side. As she held the child, he leaned closer and talked with an impatient, worried expression. She glanced at him from time to time, nodding. Mostly she focused on the child. She let it play with the pockets on her sleeves and clap her neck. Some people cried. A couple in the corner yelled at each other. A few inmates got taken away —they began hitting or throwing cups.

They seemed to be the most normal people here. He turned back to her.

“How have you been? Have you...do they still let you go outside?”

“Yeah, they do. An hour or two. I usually find a bench or a dry part on the ground…” She dug for something in her pocket. She unfolded a square of paper, chuckling. “-I actually drew you the other day. See?”

He took the page, studying it. It wasn’t bad. 

“It’s so funny. It’s like the drawing summoned you here, somehow.”

They laughed. It felt somewhat forced.

“Anyways, what about you? Why’d you come here all of a sudden?”

Taeyong looked down, picking an old spot behind his ear.

“I wanted to talk. About things. I thought that maybe it might be better...if we saw each other for this.”

“Okay. And what is this?”

“All of it. Everything that happened. I thought...we could...talk it through together...?”

“Talk it through. Right. Anywhere you want to start?”

“I thought we could start with Mom.”

He saw her stiffen. She looked to the window.

“And what do you want with her?”

“I just want to know why.”

“Why what? Go on. I can’t read your mind.”

Taeyong looked down again. He took his elbows off the table, pinching and rubbing his wrist. 

“-Why…_why _ were you so mad at her? Why did we have to... We could have fixed it —I w-wanted…” His voice gave out, just shaky breath. “-I wanted to stay with Mom a-and get help, and maybe find some kind of center for—

She let out a harsh laugh. 

“What —group therapy? You think Mom would’ve actually agreed to that? You can’t be serious.”

”We could’ve at least _tried_, why didn’t we _try —why didn’t we even tr—_

”-Did you even _hear_ anything she said —she kept saying she was _ normal _ —that it’s _ normal _to get angr—

“-And it _ is _ normal to get _ angr_—

“-Not the way she was! Not the way she got angry. She smashed shit, shattered shit, threw shit around —she almost _ hit _you! What if it was a knife? What if she came at you with a knife? Would you let her kill you?”

“Don’t fucking say that —don’t you dare say that about Mom!” He slammed his fist into the table. “-Mom wouldn’tdo that. She would _ never _ do that —she’s not the fucking crazy bitch you think she is —she broke sh —she broke shit b-because she thought it was the only way we’d _ listen._ She felt alone. She wanted us to _ hear _her. She wanted us to understand.”

“Understand what? That she’s willing to smash us to bits to get what she wants? Mom was finished. She was out of control —out of her fucking mind. Staying with her would’ve hurt us. It would’ve hurt _you_.” 

“You don’t know her. You wouldn’t say that if you... We wouldn’t _ be _ here if she didn’t care,” He stood up, trying to get his legs to stop shaking. He sat back down. “-Mom’s getting old. She’s tired. When she’s tired, she’s not herself.”

“Then we left at the right time. I got us out when she didn’t want us anymore.”

“You still think you made the right decision,” Taeyong breathed. “-you always think you’re right, don’t you?”

“Tell me what I did wrong, Yong-ah. Tell me what you would’ve done different.”

“I would've stayed with Mom. I would’ve stayed. I wouldn’t have moved into Aunt Syd’s house. She was worse than Mom. She…” He laughed thinly. “-now _ she _might’ve killed us for real.”

She winced. Twisted off a thread on her sleeve. Wound it tight around her finger until the skin turned purple, then unwound it again.

“It was _ temporary_. That was when I couldn’t find work. And I was tutoring Kevin at the time —he felt better with us around.”

“-And then you found something downtown. And on the weekends you’d still go over to her house —I thought it was just checking in…” He kept his head down, wincing. “-then I found out you were _ stealing _from her. Hacking into her account and transferring eighty thousand, ninety thousand... You were crazy. You were crazy thinking no one would find out.”

“I was getting us enough to be on our own. We were gonna leave the place, maybe even move out of town. She’s part of our damn _family_ —the money’s practically _ours_ anyways.”

“But if that were true you wouldn’t be here, now would you?”

Her glare made him flinch. 

“And you ratted me out, didn’t you? Do you know what an ungrateful shit that makes you? I was getting us _ out._” She grit through her teeth. _ “ _ And now look at us —_you _ don’t have enough for school _ —I’m _ in here with next to nothing. Fucking selfish.”

“You stole from a woman who couldn’t defend herself and then you tried to kill her. You only decided not to kill her so Kevin wouldn’t tell the cops about the money.”

He remembers that night clearer than anything. Hyojeong had gone out and he woke up in the dark, hearing someone whining from the basement. It was weak, lowing, full of pain. Like a deer caught in a trap, its leg mostly clamped off. He’d gone downstairs and found Sydney on the floor, holding her stomach, vomiting a horrid rainbow of melted pills onto the tiles. When he carried her to the bathroom and rinsed her face in the tub, she held onto his arm, leaning her mouth to his ear. Her breath blended up all words. _Please...please tell her to stop. _

“So you really ratted me out?” 

_I know what she did. It’s okay. Just get her away from my son. _

“I told Kevin to,” He said. “-he was too scared at first, but I told him he had to or else you might really kill his mom. I told him you didn’t even care about your own one.”

“You’re too hard on me. You have no idea how bad Mom was before you were born. That’s six years you didn’t have to see. Six years of locking yourself in the bathroom as they tore apart the kitchen every weekend. Couldn’t even understand what the fuck they were saying —I just knew they hated each other.”

“So that’s what you’re saying? If Mom and Dad weren’t so fucked up, we’d be better? You’d be better?”

Hyojeong looked at him like she wanted to hit him. Then she shrank back, her jaw trembling. 

“I wouldn’t hate myself so much. I wouldn’t have questioned the point of life at the age of four. I wouldn’t have sat on a swing at the playground, looking at other kid’s parents, wishing they were mine.”

She was unable to say anything for the remaining eight minutes. Taeyong held her hands as she cried, wetting the neck of her uniform. He pressed his knees to hers and sighed. He decided he’d talk to her later. Through the phone. He would wait. Another few weeks. Maybe another few months. Maybe if it was just his voice, she would listen. He’s tired. He’s too tired now.

He thought he’d moved on, but he hadn’t. He’s still angry.

(~)

Jaehyun looks out the window, trying to see if he could find her car. It’s an old Japanese place they used to go to. A bar on the second floor. It feels like ages ago. He looks down at his cup, half-expecting his pale coffee to shift to scotch. They’d burnt it. He wasn’t in the mood to ask them to make it again —just went over to the counter and dumped half in the trash, filling it with milk instead.

Now he had some whack-tasting barbecue latte. He was almost proud of himself —even sprinkled some salt in. 

Jaehyun bites back a smile, folding his napkin into smaller and smaller parts. _ Barbecue latte. _If Taeyong was here right now, maybe he’d laugh too. Maybe he’d take out his lighter and attempt to barbecue his own cup. Maybe he’d start a fire by accident and get them kicked out of here.

What would they do afterwards? Maybe they’d have another good laugh about it. Then maybe Jaehyun would hurl that shitty coffee into the street —it’d hit the windshield of a passing car and then they’d get honked at, cursed at, then run off to the back of the gas station and just lose it on the curb. _ Stop laughing, you nearly fucking killed somebody. _And then they’d laugh harder. 

He likes that about him. They could laugh at fucked up things together and not have to forgive each other because they knew. They knew it wasn’t the thing they were laughing at. They were just laughing. 

Just laughing because they were alive. That was the funniest thing in the world, for sure. 

“You look well.”

He looks up. Seorin sits down across from him, chuckling, setting her Armani purse onto the table.

“Haven’t seen that on your face in a while.”

“What?”

“This,” She reaches over, pushing the corners of his mouth up with her thumb and index finger. “-it’s not fake, is it?”

He grins, teeth showing.

“Not anymore. Thanks.”

She drops her hand, mock shuddering. 

He laughs, staring at the dried foam in his cup. 

“How’ve you been?”

“Good. I’ve been good. Better.”

She nods with each word. It feels genuine.

“Oh. That’s...that’s good. How better?”

“I’ve started running again,” She said. “-nothing too strenuous —just a couple blocks from the house. It’s good. Helps me digest better too.”

He studies her. The softer shape of her jaw, how her jacket fit snug. She smelled good, a light sheen on her face.

“You look better. More colour in your skin. Warmer.”

“Must be the endorphins. I guess they last a while.”

“You went running before you came here?”

“I ran here! Look —no car. It’s not far. I’m not staying late, so it’s fine.”

He looks out the window. It was true —her car wasn’t there. Must’ve been why he never heard her arrive. Well. At least some things made sense. Some things. 

“Wow. You planning for a marathon, huh?”

“Oh, no —not now at least,” She chuckles. “-just something to blow off steam. It’s working, so…”

“Of course, yeah. I’m glad that you’re…” He notices a burnished silver ring on her finger. He stiffens. 

“Oh, this?” She takes it off. It crumples easily. “-it’s just foil.”

She straightens the ring. Slips it back on, sighing. 

“I went over to my sister’s place last weekend. She just had a baby. Baby daughter. Her older one, Cindy, made it for me. She’s five.”

She takes out her phone and flipped through her gallery. Shows him the screen. A rosy-faced infant slept, wrapped in pale blue and purple, along a thick, robust arm with red-painted nails. Beside the baby’s belly, a girl leaned in, grinning with all her teeth, most of her hair hidden under a floppy bunny-ear cap. Glitter smudged her nose and chin. 

She has a dimple on one cheek. 

Jaehyun stared, his breath faltering. He hadn’t seen eyes like that in a long time. Unmarred by the world, still filled with wishes. They held that sparkle you lost by twelve. Seven, if you were really unlucky.

“She’s got magic in the eyes, huh?”

“Are all babies eyes this big?”

She snorts, the phone clattering on the table.

“_Are_ _all babies eyes this big?”_ Tries to imitate his deep baritone. “-jeez, you always ask the funniest questions...Still receiving satellite signals from Mars, that brain of yours...”

“That’s a little Martian right there,” He retorts, half-joking. “-never seen ears that long on a human baby.”

She smacks his arm, really laughing now. Some spittle lands on his chin. 

“Jeez, that’s really something. You must have some kind of gift.”

“For what?” He smiles. “-gift for what?”

“Making people realize they miss you,” She shook her head. He hears her mutter —_you fucker, _under her breath, but even that’s not entirely mean. “-you’re a real force, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. She’s a gorgeous little girl.”

“Her face is a little long. Isn’t her forehead a little big?”

He rolls his eyes at her.

“She’s adorable, honey. Beautiful.” 

His ears flush red when he realizes. _Shit, fuck, crap —how did I...? _

“It’s okay. Seriously, it’s okay,” She waves off. She sighs. “-sometimes I forget too.”

“Yeah? You do?”

“Sometimes I’m in the kitchen —and I take out two bowls instead. Or I cook extra. It’s fine. It’ll pass.”

He tries to smile.

“It’s like leftovers.”

She nods.

“Yeah. That’s how I see it too, honey.”

When Jaehyun leaves, he stands under the canopy for a while. He flips to the photo of Cindy and her new baby sister again. It was unnerving. How could she look so much like them? _ How could she be her sister’s daughter…? _

She could’ve been theirs. If Seo stayed a bit longer, maybe they could have… He shoves the phone into his back pocket, not even turning it off. It felt like something was stolen from him. 

When they recovered Sydney’s body from the crash, they found out she was four months pregnant. 

Jaehyun sinks down, letting the brick bite into his hair. He couldn’t deny it anymore. When he realized it, he felt almost hopeful. The one good thing to come out of this. And then gone. Gone again like it had never been his in the first place. 

He felt fucking cursed.

His phone buzzes. He unlocks his messages, laughing shallowly. _ Get home, it’s raining. You drove there, right? _He stares at the 37:48 timestamp of the video call. Seorin hadn’t made it today—she’d gotten another stack of papers to remark after they found errors in the rubric. 

She sent him another photo of Cindy. This time she sat on Seo’s lap at the dinner table, finger painting a pumpkin onto her face. She pokes in a dimple on Cindy’s other cheek.

_ Crazy. Doesn’t she look like she could be ours? _

He shoves his phone away, heading to his car.

  
(~)

Jaehyun rubs the dampness off his eyes. He feels Taeyong press his face deeper against his throat, the warmth returning. His skin flakes around his nose, patches of red. He hasn’t washed his hair in five days. Not since he got back from the correctional centre. 

He murmurs against Taeyong’s hair, breathing in the grease, the dried sweat. Almost sweet. 

“It’s okay. Hey. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

It’s been six months. 

He came back to his old apartment. It stank like crazy. Crusts of orange and brown floated in the dishes in the sink. Black fluid collected in the bottom of the overstuffed wastebasket. Fish bones, orange peels, burnt yam skin. Yogurt half-finished, egg shells on the floor. Window ledges held a yellow layer of dust. Tiny dead flies dotted the corners. 

Taeyong took out his trash and cleaned the basket in the tub. He swept and scrubbed the place, room by room, as Jaehyun did the dishes. He even used Dawn on the kitchen tiles. He didn’t complain. When he finished, he fell asleep on the couch. When Jaehyun went over with a blanket, he pulled him down, all chapped hands and sweat stains and they made out for half an hour before Jaehyun insisted he had to go shower. 

The door snapped open, barely ten minutes later. Taeyong stepped into the tub, his clothes still on. He slipped and Jaehyun tried to grab him, both of them falling down. It was nearly impossible to get his jeans off after they were soaked. He laughed for ages when Jaehyun’s back knocked into the hot water knob and broke it off. Then the other jammed in the plug, turned off the shower, sighing. They kissed messily as the water rose, warming their legs, leaving their backs chilled. Taeyong hadn’t closed the door.

Eventually, Jaehyun had to walk out barefoot and freezing, coming back with a towel, carrying Taeyong to bed —the water kept on shifting their position. The added weightlessness was working against them —all the more apparent because Taeyong weighed next to nothing. He was like a plank bobbing around in a lake. 

Anyhow, after he got the inhumanly gorgeous plank on an actual mattress —he apologized in his head as Taeyong hooked a wet leg over his waist and tugged —everything just sort of fell into place. He slowed down this time. He took Taeyong apart, inch by inch, kissing the inside of his knee as the guy trembled, the damp patches under their legs hot under the heavy blankets. The jut of his ribs heaved under his palm, he gripped his hip hard enough to leave marks. But he kept his rhythm. He wanted to be better this time.

When Taeyong pleaded for him to go faster, he told him to be patient. He read it in his eyes. It was just like that. You ended up saying the opposite of what you wanted. You took what you thought you deserved.

_ You’re better. You’re better than you think you are. _

He grunted against Taeyong’s neck. He held back from biting, kissing where his tears left salt marks. He was so fragile. Why hadn’t anyone ever treated him like he was made of glass? 

Even glass softened thrust enough against the current. When had Taeyong finally given in? _How far had he let them wear him down...?_

The friction rubbed off some scabs on his back, making Taeyong tell him to stop. Jaehyun loosened his grip and asked him what was wrong. He sat up and turned around. There was no blood, but the scars were still pink and tender. 

He applied cream and bandages again. Taeyong muttered it was probably his fault. The cuts had reopened in the pool. And before that, he always scratched before he went to sleep. His hands itched with impulse. He couldn’t help it. 

Jaehyun said it was okay. He rubbed his shoulders and asked him if he wanted to get back to it again. Taeyong shook his head. He finished in the bathroom. He was loud enough so Jaehyun could hear him. Maybe he did that on purpose.

After that he crawled back into bed and mumbled if Jaehyun needed anything. The other said no, smoothing a palm over his forehead. It was okay. Dim blue slants glowed on the opposite wall. Sometimes a smaller, brighter streak rode up the ceiling and disappeared. He could hear the gulls, the cars below. It was okay.

He looks down at Taeyong’s swollen face, brushing off the crusts that collected around his eyes. His breath was soft against his collarbone. The late sun turned the dust on his cheek into a million brilliant particles. He had a brief vision of them running down the beach together, legs caught in the tide. He winces. It felt like a memory.

“I wish it was easier,” Taeyong mumbles. The other raised his brow —he thought he’d been asleep. “-I wish you could say things and people would just understand. I wish they would listen.”

“That could be nice. I think you’re talking about heaven though.”

“You think people would finally understand you in heaven?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe heaven has the same problems. But we fight about different things because we don’t need food or beds.”

“What would we fight about?” Taeyong laughs. “-who gets the trumpet solo in Ave Maria?”

They laugh. 

“I’m scared of heaven, actually,” Jaehyun admits, rubbing his neck. He felt a migraine setting in. “-it feels so false to me. So much light, all that gilded crap. And you get thrown out if you’re bad, anyways.”

“You’d rather just go straight to hell?”

“I think I’d get accustomed to it faster. It’s not so different from here.”

“In a way, it’s kinder too,” Taeyong nods. “-nothing ever changes, you never have to hope...just to realize it’s...You never have to be wrong.”

“How long are you planning on staying here?”

He blinks.

“You want me to leave? I thought you…” He trails off when Jaehyun starts laughing again. Little lines appear around his nose. It was youthful, somehow.

“No, I meant, how long are you planning to stay _ here. _On Earth.”

“Oh,” Taeyong snorts, wiping his eyes. “-forever, then. Seriously. Maybe I need life more than it needs me.”

He stares out into the darkening sky. It was humid tonight. His throat felt sticky again already.

“But we all realize that eventually, right?”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun frowns. “-I’m still getting there. Maybe I should learn from you.”

“We should get some plants. Vegetables. Or potted berries that don’t grow too tall.” Taeyong looks around the balcony. Except for a workout bench and a barbell, it was empty. They sat on chairs brought out from the living room. “-the green’s good for your eyes. You’ll feel better, just breathing it in.”

“No. We should go to Mars. Live in a dome. Start a spinach farm, harness all that newly found water. That’s all the green we’ll ever need.”

Taeyong laughs at how utterly serious the other sounded. It took him a while to even wink at him. He’s joking, but not really.

“Okay. Let’s go to Mars tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m planning on posting a longer note here this weekend, just a bit busy at the moment.
> 
> there’s some closing things i wanna say after this fic. stay tuned :)
> 
> …
> 
> 10/03/20 update: i’ve made some changes to the fic —the original took place over four days and now it covers a few months. the extra parts exist in a number of chapters, so reading it as a whole, you’ll get a sense of the change. i thought it would make the development between taeyong and jaehyun more realistic (although now it’s really unrealistic they could afford to stay in a hotel that long). you win some, you lose some, i guess. 
> 
> anyways, that’s a lesser issue compared to the rest of this note. this may not be so surprising but much of this fic —the characters and the situations in particular —are influenced by things that have happened in my life and people i’ve known. jaehyun and seorin’s characters in particular are based off of family members and their domestic issues are real. i wanted to find a way to write about it, to try to understand it better, and i guess this is how it turned out.
> 
> their resulting situation is an extreme version of what may have happened if the family situation got a lot worse. relationships are hard. it’s hard to make compromises, even for people you really care about. what i will say is, if you are able to choose who you marry, make it someone who values you and is willing to make compromises for you. and you need to be willing to give back too. otherwise, you’ll end up hurting yourself.
> 
> you should value yourself, and that will show in who you decide to spend the rest of your life with. that’s all i wanted to say. thanks for reading!


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